


The Only One

by Schmuzz



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, But considering what this word count is gonna be when this fic is done..., Canon-Typical Violence, Fluff, I didn't think this was a slow burn, I think it counts, Identity Reveal, M/M, Miscommunication, Peter Parker... eh, Peter just makes things worse for himself tbh, Pining, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-10-06 20:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 70,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17352146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmuzz/pseuds/Schmuzz
Summary: Tony Stark has some suspicions that one of his employees in R&D is sneaking tech to his competitors. He definitely doesn’t like Deadpool, but the regenerating degenerate is reliable - so long as the price is right.Wade Wilson has been trying to emulate Spider-Man and get out of the merc business for a few months now, and happily takes Stark up on his offer. He even gets to brag to his role model/crush about how he’s been trailing his mark, a nerdy college student named Peter Parker.





	1. The Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> I pulled this from a prompt from a spideypool blog where Tony Stark asks Deadpool to do some PI work on Peter Parker, and when Peter realizes DP is spying on him, he basically leans into it for fun. I decided to play up the drama a bit, but I'm hoping it'll be a fun romp for anyone who wants to read it! I've enjoyed spideypool off and on for a long time, and I'm so excited to finally put out a fic with them! :)
> 
> Also this fic is a definite amalgamation of movies and comics and that one spideypool ask blog on tumblr lmao. Wade’s appearance is taken from the Deadpool movies, while Peter’s is a combo of some of the more recent Spider-Man comics and the Andrew Garfield movies. There’s also smaller details, like Wade getting his hands on an image inducer (one that resembles the type that the Black Widow uses in CA:TWS versus in the comics where he’s had them and used them before, but the image inducer tech was originally made by Howard Stark which is why Tony has it, but SHIELD does too…) basically it’s all made up and the points don’t matter that’s what I’m trying to say. Enjoy!
> 
> twitter - @schmuzz1  
> tumblr - schmuzz1
> 
> Come say hi! :)

When Tony Stark asked to meet with him, Wade was figuring, you know, an all hands on deck type of situation. Catastrophic. End of the world. Maybe a PR thing. So he took his time getting there, only to realize it was just the two of them on the top floor of the Avengers tower. 

“Good, you’re here. Sit down.” Wade’s gaze flicked from the other man’s back, trying to read some of the details on the projected screen he was looking at. 

“You know, I like to show up fashionably late to these sorts of things so I don’t have to make awkward small talk.” He took a pointed sip of his iced coffee before plopping down on the couch, throwing his feet up on the coffee table. 

“This isn’t an Avengers thing. It’s a you-and-me thing,” Tony said, walking towards Wade. 

“Ooh, is it? I gotta say, you’re not on my list (Spiderman/Deadpool issue #4) but -”

“Not that. I mean I’m hiring you for a job.” 

Wade raised a non-existent eyebrow. Not that Tony could see either way with the mask. “Uh, okay. That’s cool - but I’m kind of like, slowly extracting myself from the murder business. I mean I’m sure I  _ could  _ be persuaded if the payout is high enough, but -”

“It’s not a hit - wait, really?” Wade shrugged. “You have ‘dead’ in your name.”

“Well I’m gonna hold off on rebranding to see if this really sticks.”

Tony squinted. “Any… motivation for your charitable change of heart?”

“Oh, sure. The desire to rub elbows with A-list heroes more often, my need to be loved and praised, wanting to seduce Spider-man by proving to him I’m a better match than he thought, Pride and Prejudice style, and…” He stopped counting off on his fingers. “Were you expecting to hear something like ‘I realized what I was doing was wrong and wanted to change myself for the better’?”

Tony sighed. “I’ve always tried to be pragmatic. Well, congrats on your six week chip or whatever. I don’t intend to outsource any of my enemies to you anyway. I need you for a surveillance job. Nothing lethal, no maiming. Just observe and report.” He flicked the holographic screen until it blew up, automatically flipping so Wade could read it. 

There were a few pictures of the same man - young, nerdy looking, usually wearing glasses - and some information about him. He was a junior at Empire State University in biomedical engineering, he was a Leo, four inches shorter than Wade, and - “He works for you?”

“Started as an intern his freshman year and got hired part time. But there’s something… off about him. The stuff he comes up with is - it’s not on the schedule. He manages to get whatever it is he needs to get done, but he’s tinkering with some other stuff, side projects. Which is fine, I’m all for healthy experimentation. But I’m worried he’s stealing intel.” 

“So why don’t you fire him?” Tony winced.

“He’s… really smart. Like a mini-me level - well not  _ that smart,  _ but he’s up there. And I want to make sure he’s like, actually doing something nefarious before I decide one way or another. At least if he’s employed here I can keep an eye on him for eight hours a day. And he seems so mousy that it’s hard to imagine - but, I don’t know. There’s something about him…”

“Is it those dark, soulful eyes?” Wade offered, glancing at the pictures. Tony ignored him.

“He’ll disappear during the day at the most random times and brush it off with some weird excuse, and he’s been working on some sort of nanotech type fabric whenever he stays late - and that is  _ not  _ his department. I tried to put a tracker on him -”

“Wow, just no trust in the help anymore, huh?”

“- And I tracked it later to the basket of a bicycle some random courier from Brooklyn owns. How’d he manage that?” Wade shrugged. “Exactly.”

“Alright, so he’s weird, got that. But why not hire, I don’t know… Black Widow? Or literally anyone from SHIELD?”

“Because then SHIELD knows about this guy. He could be a SHIELD spy for all I know! That wouldn’t be the first time they pulled that trick. You’re a mercenary; you can do what needs to get done for a paycheck. There’s no secret loyalties or ties to a weird pseudo-government agency.” 

“That’s not true - sometimes I follow my heart.” Tony sighed and pulled out his phone. 

“I can front you ten grand right now, and you’ll get the rest if you bring back anything useful on this kid.” 

Wade crossed one leg over the other, taking another sip of his drink. “How much is the rest?”

Tony showed him his phone screen, upon which there was a one with many repeating zeroes. Wade made a noise of interest.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Just one more thing. In case you haven’t noticed, my lovely costume isn’t the most inconspicuous. And neither is my face. I can trail him no problem, but if you want me to get close enough to pick up any details…” Tony bounced on the balls of his feet, going towards the wet bar on the other side of the room. “Drinking as a reaction to seeing my face is fine, but at least let me whip it out, first!”

“Not that, Wilson. This. Catch.” Tony procured a weird… blue netting, about the size of a washcloth, and tossed it. Wade caught it, turning it in his hands. “Got my hands on a SHIELD image inducer and perfected it. You affix it to your face and it mimics any appearance you want.” 

“Ah, stealing SHIELD technology is fine. A college student taking your ideas means he needs a deadly mercenary on his trail.”

“You’re not using deadly force, and I came up with the prototype before SHIELD stole it. It’s a back and forth thing we have going on. It’s fun. Corporate spies are not as fun.” As he got closer, he handed Wade two more devices that were vaguely hand shaped. “There. Unless you’re planning on tracking this guy to the Bahamas -”

“Ooh, don’t start planning the honeymoon too early, I haven’t even met him yet!”

“Have we got a deal?” Tony persisted. “I just need information on whether he is or isn’t a threat. Find out his schedule, where he goes, even what he’s trying to accomplish with his sudden interest in fashion. Got it?”

Wade carefully tucked the nano-whatevers into an empty pouch and stood up. “Deal.”

On the elevator ride down to the lobby, Deadpool saw the bank deposit notification on his phone, followed by an email message from a dummy account that had all the information on his mark. “Alright, Peter Parker... Game on.” 

 

-

 

The main issue with Wade’s recon mission on maybe-a-spy Peter Parker was… the guy was boring. He had the same schedule, which made it easy for Wade to track him, but it never offered him any reprieve of sitting around nearby, pretending to read or play on his phone while he watched the younger man out of the corner of his eye. He lived in a tidy little Queens apartment with his older aunt and took the subway to Empire State for his Monday-Wednesday and Tuesday-Thursday classes. He pulled a 9 to 5 at Stark Industries on Fridays and worked there after school every Monday and Tuesday, usually twenty hours per week, though he was prone to staying late to work on… stuff. 

Stark said he’d handle surveillance in the building, he wanted to know what the kid was getting up to any other time, like if he was meeting a buyer or a boss. Wade had already decided that he’d break into SI at some point just to make sure, and for funsies of course, but not just yet. He wanted to get a better idea of who he mark was, which, again, he was inclined to say boring.

In between classes, he was either in the library working on some assignment, or he was sitting at one of the little tables set up in a park near the college’s science building. Sometimes alone, sometimes with his friends. Peter didn’t have many friends - Mary Jane Watson was one, and Ned Leeds was the other. They appeared to be friends from high school, and Peter also had short conversations with other classmates who were in the same courses as he was, but that was it. He had a small social circle. The work of an awkward and nerdy young adult or someone who was trying to maintain an air of normalcy while really being a sleeper agent? 

[Or the evil clone of the original Peter Parker]

{Or the Peter Parker from an alternate reality}

[Or he was really just a normal guy and Stark is getting paranoid in his silver fox stage in life]

{ _ OR -  _ he’s looking at us}

Wade didn’t startle, or rip his gaze away from where it had been resting at Peter’s table a stone’s throw away, that would be suspicious, and Wade could reign it in if need be. Usually if a paycheck hinged on it. His mark had just said goodbye to his friends and opened a textbook, before glancing over at him and sending him a polite little smile. Then he went back to his book. 

[He really does have dark, soulful eyes] one of the boxes eeked out, after a few minutes of careful watching. Peter scratched at the back of his neck, brow furrowing, highlighter pen in his mouth as he tried to make sense of whatever was on the page.

{And artfully tousled hair. I wonder -}

_ Nope, no. Not gonna think about it, _ Wade thought, unlocking his phone and pretending to read his Twitter feed.  _ I’m not a Russian spy played by ScarJo or Jennifer Lawrence - can’t just sleep with the target. Not that I even could - _

[Not normally, no]

{But right now you’re looking a lot like Ryan Reynolds, so -}

[You even have that little eyebrow scar. Sexy.]

{Distinctive} 

Peter got up after half an hour of taking notes and headed towards his next class. He was busy shoving a few scattered pieces of paper in his bag, not paying attention to Wade as he walked by. 

_ Don’t look.  _

[Look!]

{Look!}

After a second of careful deliberation, weighing the pros and cons and analyzing the vast myriad of possible outcomes - 

He looked.

[Skinny jeans are so five years ago]

{Shut up!}

Peter Parker was boring. At least he wasn’t bad to look at. Coming or going. “Hah, nice one, me,” he muttered out loud. No one noticed him.

 

-

 

“Hey, Webs!” Deadpool called out to the familiar shape flying overhead like a one man trapeze show. He bounced in place when he saw Spider-man look down, change course in midair, and shoot out another web at a nearby light pole, letting himself flip around it and land on top. 

“Deadpool,” he noted with a cock of his head. “I see you’re back. Is there a problem with anything?”

“Naw, just saying hi. Hi!” 

“Hi, Deadpool.” To his delight, Spider-man jumped down and landed a few feet from him.

“Ooh, superhero landing? Nice. Classy. Doesn’t that fuck with your knees?”

“Uh, well, yeah. It’s not - great, now that you mention it.” He straightened up, knees giving an audible crack. “Hm.” He shook out one of his legs before leaning against the light pole. “So. How are… things?”

“Way to sound like an awkward ex. We haven’t even dated and inevitably broken up yet!” Spider-man let out a huff of laughter and started walking down the street, Wade moving to catch up. “Anyway, I know you kind of think of yourself as my keeper -”

[Like Fifty Shades style? Hot]

“-More like your parole officer,” Spider-man countered.

“A sexy parole officer in a skin-tight suit, yes. You and Colossus are really going toe to toe here for my favorite lawful good eye candy.”

“A title I’ll wear with pride,” Spider-man said, wryly. “How have things been going? Keeping out of trouble?”

“More or less. There’s been some X-Men shenanigans that kept me out of the city for a while, Colossus was like ‘join our virgin squad’ for the hundredth time but I’m a lone wolf, baby! I did give him your number. It seemed more in line with your sort of personality.”

“You don’t have my number.” He paused. “And I’m not a - never mind. Colossus likes you?”

“Eh, in this universe? Anyway. In way more exciting news, I actually got called in on a personal mission by Tony motherfuckin’ Stark. So.” The other man made a note of interest. “I even told him, like ‘hey. No killing. I don’t do that anymore. Unless the price is right -’”

“Wade!”   


“Which is, uh, so impossibly high that no amount of material wealth could make up for the loss of human life?”

“Don’t say it like it’s a question!” Spider-man said, jabbing him in the side with his elbow. “Why would Stark need you to kill someone?”

“Oh, he doesn’t. Just wants me to do some surveillance on some college kid named Peter Parker. Guess he works under him? But he’s been doing weird stuff or something - I don’t know, so far the kid seems normal to me. Work and classes. I think Stark’s just getting paranoid there’s a new young, nubile genius in town, but I’ve been wrong before. I even got a sweet piece of image inducing Stark tech out of the deal, so.” He shrugged in a ‘what can you do?’ sort of way, walking a few more paces before realizing Spider-man was no longer following him. “Uh. Webs?” 

“Sorry, uh -” He paused again, head cocking. “Spidey sense. Yep. That is definitely what that was.” 

“Uh, okay -” Before Wade could ask what Spidey had sensed, he heard the distinct sound of water rushing, and the fire hydrants on the street immediately exploded, the pavement rapidly puddling under their feet. “Oh, gross, this is gonna mix with the sewer water in like, ten minutes, tops.”

“Are you busy?” Spider-man said.

“Well if  _ you’re  _ not busy we can totally catch up over a plate of nachos or something -”

“No, Deadpool, I mean can you help me out with this?” 

Wade gasped. “Is Spidey asking  _ moi  _ to help out? Well I do declare!”

“You keep saying you want to be a hero, right? Well here’s your chance.”

Wade frowned. “Hey, that’s not fair, I’ve been a non-rostered Avenger for like, months now, and -”

“Are you helping me or not?” Spider-man snapped, turning around and gestured to his back. “I don’t have all day.” 

Wade brushed aside Spidey’s attitude. The guy tended to get pissy when the status of his morality came into play, moreso than most other supers he interacted with. Guy really had a thing for being a goody-two-shoes. But he was  _ still  _ one of Wade’s favorites, so. “Spider-man asking for my help? This is what dreams are made of.” Wade happily clung onto the other’s shoulders, locking his legs around his hips. Wade had been privileged to ride around like Spider-man’s personal spider monkey a few times before, and it still kind of amazed him how easily the other man moved. Like, proportional strength of a spider, duh, but he was just as nimble with a self-professed beefcake on his back, swinging them up and around like it was nothing. It made him sigh, longingly, into the masked man’s ear.

“Don’t do that,” Spider-man warned, swinging them up through the wide avenues. As they moved rapidly towards Midtown, the streets began to take on a… flooded quality. Well, more like very puddly, which was definitely not what anyone was expecting to see in the middle of a dry autumn. 

“I make no promises, sweetcheeks.”

“Ugh, don’t call me that. What are you, a detective from fifty years ago?” 

“Hah, not in this universe!” Spider-man twisted around buildings, not paying attention to the breath-taking view as he instead tried to get them to the center of… whatever was going on. “What about honey? Pumpkin? Sugar bear?” As he spoke, the pair of them hit a block where the crowds of civilians congealed, clearly panicking over another villain-of-the-week archetype. This one had a water theme, and a row of water hydrants that lined the streets were popped open, flowing into the streets.

“No, no, and no. Can we focus here?” Spider-man shook his head, getting onto a store sign on one of the buildings about ten stories up to take in the scene below. 

Wade carefully stepped off, standing on a different letter so the weight didn’t cause them to collapse. Evil Pool Boy had already done some damage, with a few wrecked cars and broken windows. The police had arrived, too, but not before - “Shit, he’s got hostages. Three people and - is one of them wearing an ‘I <3 New York” t-shirt? Wow. Whenever people come to visit they just don’t know the protocol for random attacks while in NYC, you know? Tourists.” 

“He seems to be holding them in a block of water…?” Spider-man squinted, tilting his head as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. 

“Looks like they can breathe if they’re currently alive and not struggling.” Wade unsheathed his katanas, twirling them and testing the familiar weight in his hands; old friends, reunited. 

“This guy might be able to alter the chemical balance of water. But maybe we can get them out.” Luckily they hadn’t been spotted yet; the villain was currently making demands to the police that had gathered around him. 

The letter groaned under Wade’s feet and he shifted slightly closer to the building.

“So what’s the plan?”

Spider-man flicked through the web shooters attached to his wrists. “I’ve been working on a new type of webbing that can probably stop the water flow from the hydrants; that might cut off his source. You try to see if you can subdue the guy. No -”

“No killing, don’t worry baby boy, I got it.” Spider-man turned towards him. “Baby boy? Like, you’re my baby but I don’t want to emasculate you?”

Spider-man squinted at him. “I’ll have you know I’m very secure in my masculinity.”

“You know I figured the super heroing world would try to be more open and flexible, considering the skin tight tactical suits and miles of spandex? And all the male supers means that we’re just begging for unwitting homoerotic tension. But I’ve been proven wrong time and time again! It’s honestly a pain in the ass. Hah, oh man, I did  _ not  _ intend th - ACK!” The letter gave way, detaching from the building. He twisted in the air, and as he looked up, he saw Spider-man startle, reaching his arm out -

He flipped his katanas and dug them into the mortar of the building, slowing his fall just as Spider-man's webbing stuck to his calf. 

“Don’t worry, I’m okay!” He shouted up to the other guy. “Man your aim sucks. Anticipate where I’m gonna go next, you know? Could’ve given me whiplash.”

Spider-man stared at him for a long moment. “Sorry.” He had a weird lilt to his voice. He turned back to the street. “He saw us, I’m heading down. Guess I’ll go for him first instead. Are you good?” 

“Yeah, what’s another three stories?” The other man ripped the web from his shooter, letting it fall down the building so he and Deadpool were no longer connected. He swung off, and Deadpool heard the beautiful noise of a witty one liner by the spandex’d love of his life, followed by the tell-tale  _ thwack!  _ of a sharp kick to the villain’s face. 

{I have the distinct feeling we just stumbled into some Traumatic Past}

[Ask him after we save him during the fight]

{And he’s in love with us] 

After some pulling and probably spraining his wrists, he pulled his swords out of the building, stumbling on thin air and landing, very painfully, on a mailbox. His spine was kind of broken, so he was forced to watch, upside down, as Spider-man fought Dark Aquaman. 

The guy looked like he was using a wand - at least it wasn’t a literal trident - to force the water up, using the velocity to bash Spider-man away after the lucky hit he landed. But the super was easily able to turn his momentum and redirect it as he swung around a nearby street sign, aiming himself at the water-controlling villain. They parlayed for a while like that; trading blows, both playing defense and keeping their distance. 

“I can see you’re trying to make a splash with this whole super villain thing here,” Spider-man quipped as he landed a lucky punch.

“Booo!!” Wade called, his vertebrae cracking together in alignment once again. Water Boy sent a look his way, but considering he looked like he was now paralyzed, he focused back on the hero he was actively fighting. 

“Everyone’s a critic,” said hero huffed, trying to web up the other, only to be blocked by a wave of water. 

Wade rolled off the mailbox and fell to a crouch. He crept along the edge of the battle arena that had formed, taking a roundabout way to get to the hostages. As he got closer, he saw Spidey’s assessment was probably accurate; they looked like they were being suspended in a weird sort of jelly. In a flash he was reminded of perflubron and all those other oxygen enriched liquids; you could breathe in them, at least for a while, but it certainly didn’t feel like a pleasant adjustment. He would know; it was one of the more memorable Weapon X torture methods he had endured.

Suppressing a shiver, he strode over to the large cubes. “Hey,” he hissed. “Can you hear me? Can you move?” The ‘I <3 NY’ shirt guy blinked, and very slowly moved his head over his shoulder by a couple of inches. The other two - a man in a business suit and a woman in sweatpants with a few shopping bags trapped in the goo with her -  only twitched their fingers and kicked their feet slightly. Whatever this stuff was, it kept them alive, but very limited in their movements. 

Wade experimentally sliced a chunk off the cube. The blade went through it like jello at first, only to stiffen and become impossible to move once he had put more pressure in it. The substance formed back together almost immediately. 

“Like water quicksand.” He banged on the gelatin block in front of him holding the young woman. “I’m gonna try to grab your legs and pull you out, okay? We gotta move slow.” He sheathed his swords and, double checking that Spider-man was still busy with his current opponent, plunged his hands in. “Ew, ew, ew, this is  _ so  _ weird. Eugh.” He wrapped his fingers around her ankles, pulling as slow as possible. Because it was a whole human, there was still resistance, and Wade definitely didn’t possess Spider-man’s strength  _ or  _ patience, but he managed in getting the woman’s feet, then calves, thighs, abdomen, chest, and finally, head all free, with only a few stubborn chunks of blueish goo to remind her of her ordeal.

[And PTSD]

{Or a weird new fetish}

Wade wrinkled his nose at that.

“Are you okay?” Wade asked, carrying her a few feet away and letting her sit against the side of a wrecked car. She nodded, only to immediately start coughing and throwing up that blue goo inside her lungs. “Okay, cool. I’m just gonna uh, go save more people. You’re doing great!” He signaled to a nearby police officer, who immediately rushed over to the woman and started getting her out of the area. 

He managed to get business suit guy half out before a wave crashed over the gooey prisons. Wade shoved his hand into the substance to keep himself from getting washed away. 

“Oh, come on!” he yelled, tugging his mask up so he could breathe a little easier. 

“I can’t make demands without hostages!” Mountain Dew Code Blue shouted, waving his magic water wand around. 

“Yeah, that’s the point.” Wade got up, keeping his katanas at the ready. He rushed at the other morally-bankrupt character, only to realize belatedly that, right, swords can’t cut through water. He was pushed back by another wave the strength of a firehouse, hitting a building on the other side of the street. At least the concussion and broken rib was enough of a distraction for Spider-man to swing back and do a repeat of that kick to the face he had landed on the guy at the start of his fight, calves and thighs bulging with muscle as he knocked some teeth out. God, Spider-man was fast. And strong. And totally dreamy. Obviously. He shook the remnants of the brain bleed away and staggered upwards. The hero was light on his feet as usual, keeping up the banter.

“Okay, I gotta ask - what’s the long game anyway?” Spider-man asked.

“People must pay for what they’ve done to the Earth! I’m sure you’ve seen it! In twenty years, climate change will be irreversible.” 

“I, uh. Yeah?” Spider-man’s stance relaxed and he rubbed the back of his head. “But what does yelling in the street of New York do? Why don’t you go clean up an oil spill? Or stop all the water pollution that bottling companies cause?” The villain blinked. “I’m just saying you could be using your powers for good? And not harassing civilians who probably recycle.” 

The other man paused. 

Wade picked up one of his discarded swords and swung it in his grip, creeping closer to the other pair of supers.

“Don’t try to trick me! The world must be punished! Starting with y -” Wade threw his sword with expert precision. He could see the eyes of Spider-man’s mask widen with horror, only to relax when the hilt of the sword just conked the guy in the head, sending him sprawling to the ground, unconscious. 

“You know what they say,” Wade started, crossing the street. “Some guys just don’t want to face the interlocking, complex network of economic, industrial, and social forces that alter the reality around us in horrific ways.” He picked up his swords as he went, grimacing at the goo still stuck to them and sticking them back in their sheaths. His whole suit needed a cleaning, anyway.

“I say that to myself every day,” Spider-man said, webbing up Shitty Namor. Wade couldn’t tell if he was being funny or he actually meant it. 

“What was his name, anyway? I’m running out of H2O-based references to make in my head, here.”

“Uh. He said it was Styx.” 

“What, like River Styx? That’s so lame! You can’t just steal shit from mythology and hope no one remembers.” 

“I know, right?” A few nervous looking police officers came forward, now that the threat had been neutralized. They gave Wade a second, third, and fourth glance, but Spider-man was giving them a little finger salute and walking away, so Wade just followed him, and the cops didn’t trail after. 

As they walked further down the street, he saw that the cubes of gelatinous water were slipping into a puddle, now that they didn’t have any master to control their shape. The other two hostages were getting pulled out of their jelly prisons by a few officers. Paramedics were waiting with shock blankets, and civilians were starting to creep around the parameter. “I like Deadpool, actually.” Spider-man said, abruptly. “It’s a good name, even if the imagery is… weird.”

“Oh, yeah, it was just, you know, a betting pool on who’d die on the next mission? Except I just couldn’t! Then I got fucked up by Weapon X - as you know, since you unlocked my tragic backstory on our fifth date - and then I really couldn’t die.” 

“Huh. Well, you know, not bad. It has a ring to it.” 

“I’m putting that on my website. Endorsed by Spider-man. Actually your name? A true classic, and not just because you’ve been kicking it since the 60s. Like, Spider-man - simple, you know what you’re expecting. Unless you’re thinking a man made of spiders -”

Spider-man turned his head towards him. “Sometimes people do think that.”

Deadpool stopped short. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. I let them believe it because when they think I can shoot a bunch of spiders at them, they usually stop whatever they’re doing and run off.” He let out a little chuckle, undoubtedly thinking back to moments when that really happened. 

Wade put his hands to his face. “Oh my God. Devious and manipulative. I love it.” To his surprise, Spider-man didn’t lecture him on putting him in anything but a lawful good, holier-than-thou light. Instead he just snorted, turning his head back to the road. 

“I think this is where I leave you for the night. Good job, Deadpool. I think I’m actually impressed.”

“Aw, but we were just  _ bonding.” _

“Well, if you keep up with the no-killing thing, we can bond more at a later date. I have some stuff to attend to.” He put his hand up, web shooter at the ready. He looked over his shoulder at Wade. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths real soon. Good luck on your Stark-sponsored mission. Bye!” And with that, he was gone, a red and blue and beautiful blur flinging through the city. Deadpool sighed, putting a hand over his heart. 

“Wait. Mission?” 

{Watching Peter Parker. Remember?}

Wade groaned; he was glad that Spider-man took the news well - more points to becoming a legitimate hero and Spider-man realizing that  _ ~he’s been there the whole time~  _ and all that. But compared to fighting side by side with Spidey, watching a college student was going to be so  _ boring _ . 


	2. The Plot Thiccens

Wade thumbed through the latest issue of Cat Fancy - he only bought it for the articles, he swears! - While he waited for Peter’s neuro- bio- physio- medical whatever class to let out so the other man could go sit in the park, like usual, until his next class period came up. He checked his watch; the guy was five minutes late. It wasn’t a cause for concern yet, though. He already knew from experience - 

{AKA scaling the outside of the science building and peering into the windows.} 

\- that Peter loved to stay after class to ask the professor some rambling question or another. 

[He is totally the type of guy that reminds the teacher about the homework.] 

{Ugh. No ass could make up for that!}

Wade startled when a to-go cup was placed down in front of him, and Peter himself sat down across the little table, smiling at him. “Hey stranger,” he greeted. 

“Uh.” Wade slowly lowered the magazine down, ear marking the page and shutting it. “Hi.” 

“I would’ve gotten here sooner, but it’s officially pumpkin spice latte season, so the coffee shop was packed.” He lifted his own cup and twitched his hand forward in a subtle ‘cheers!’ gesture before taking a sip. 

Wade sniffed at his own cup. “This is pumpkin spice?”

“No, it’s a mocha. It’s the classier way of getting caffeine and sugar into your body at once.” It could be poisoned, but Wade wasn’t concerned about that - thanks regeneration powers.

“Well, thanks. Uh, what’s with the free drink?” He lifted the top off his cup, stared at the dark, chocolatey looking depths, and took a tentative taste; it was just hot chocolate with a hint of coffee as far as he could tell. Peter picked at a loose thread on the cuff of his sweater.

“I figured since you’ve been staring at me every time I come here for the past two weeks, you either wanted to murder me or ask me on a date, and you were too scared to do either. So I thought I’d swing by to introduce myself.” Wade nearly spat the mocha back into his cup. 

“What?” he choked out.

“Also the coffee was sort of like, you know, if you were on the fence between the two,” Peter carried on, not paying attention to the mini coughing fit Wade was currently going through. “I’m Peter Parker, nice to meet you…?” He waited for Wade to introduce himself. And…

{Two woods diverged in a path and I -}

[He knows too much! Fuck winning over Spider-man, just kill him! We can plant evidence on the corpse later for Stark.]

Wade frowned. He had been on plenty of assignments that had required stealth and trailing targets. But those all pretty much ended in giant shoot outs that he won (duh) and none of those had ever had a hiccup that stemmed from the target being… interested in him. But here Peter was, resting his chin in his hand and patiently waiting for Wade to open his mouth. 

Now, Wade knew all about hidden depths. Pretending to be one thing when really you were another. He was pretty sure he had about 10,000 leagues of depth in the choppy waters of his own psyche, plus the retcons, reboots, multiverses... you get the picture. But this Peter guy? He never really showed anything out of the ordinary. Late night walks and having a bad work-life-school balance were his biggest vices, from what Wade had gathered. There really wasn’t more to him. He could probably take what he knew, go up to Tony, and clear himself of the whole thing.

Or.

There  _ was  _ more to Peter, but Wade was never going to figure it out unless he got close. And Peter was offering him that option right now. 

“Call me Wade,” he said, putting the lid back on his drink and taking a sip that ended up not getting hacked out of his lungs.

“Does Wade have a last name?” Peter asked.

“Ooh, that’s top secret stuff, Pete. A post first date question at least.” He smirked, and Peter ducked his head slightly, trying to hide it by fiddling with his own cup. 

[Fuck, never mind. He  _ is  _ too cute to kill. For now.]

“So that means that you watching me from afar was a shy but well-meaning loner type of thing? And not a really slow assassination attempt?”

“Unless looks could kill.”

“Ah, so your expressions of longing were dragging me here, to my demise.” He tapped his finger on the table top. 

“Just the demise of your sanity, because now you have to listen to me.” Peter’s smile was slowly widening into a lopsided grin. And it wasn’t the sort of maniacal, crazed grin that super villains handed out like candy; no, this just seemed like genuine… Delight. Wade pursed his lips in confusion; who would ever feel delighted at subjecting themselves to  _ him?  _ Aside from a very short list of individuals, most of whom were now deceased.

[Could be the Ryan Reynold’s face...]

{It’s that eyebrow scar, man!}

“So...” Wade floundered for a second. “Do you, uh, live around here? I just see you all the time.”

“No, no I’m back at Queens - just go to school at ESU.” Wade nodded. He had all the quick facts of Peter’s life, thanks to Stark, and some not-so-quick facts, thanks to his own ability to dig up intel on people, but he didn’t want to look like a stalker. Best to play it dumb. 

“Explains all the books. What degree? Wait, let me guess - English?” Peter laughed. “Photography.” He laughed harder. “Science?”

“Yeah, just science. All of science, that’s my specialty. No, it’s biomedical engineering.” 

Wade whistled. “Impressive.” Peter had the gall to actually look shy at the compliment, glancing off to the side in a bashful manner. 

“It’s - nothing. Just what I’m good at. You know?” Wade hummed. “What do you do?”

“Military, sort of. Finished my last tour a few months ago and now I’m on desk duty for a while.” 

“Oh - I mean, thank you for your service.” 

“Don’t thank me - it was Canadian special forces. When my country decides it’s had enough of standing in America’s shadow - you’ll see.” He pointed a finger at Peter’s face. 

“I’ll keep it in mind. So you’re doing... Diplomacy stuff?” 

Wade shrugged. “Yeah, guess you could call it that. Going from one party to another. It’s mostly a lot of paperwork, and weird hours depending on who I need to hold a Skype meeting with,” he lied easily. “So I get a lot of downtime during the day.” 

“New York is probably one of the best places to be when you have a lot of downtime.” 

“Yeah, I get to longingly stare at whiz kids like you from across a park,” Wade said, resting his chin on his hand. He could feel the coating of the image inducer between both his hand and his face, but it was a sturdy piece of tech; his disguise wouldn’t ripple or flicker; only if someone touched him would there be a feeling of unnatural material over his skin. As he watched Peter brush dark, unruly hair from his eyes and let out a witty retort, Wade realized that might prove a problem, in the future. 

{Well, what’s a good story without a few problems?}

Wade noticed a steady stream of college-student-looking people crossing through the park around them. Peter hadn’t noticed yet, but he  _ had  _ taken to innocently brushing the tip of his sneaker against one of Wade’s calves while he talked about his classes and why they really weren’t anything that complicated, Wade, jeez, stop trying to make me seem like a genius when I really don’t deserve it. It was adorable, the rambling and the foot thing, like Peter had known Wade for years and also hadn’t talked to him at all before today. He wouldn’t have minded if the two of them just kept talking for - well, forever, or at least the rest of the day. 

But if he was going to play honeypot, as this mission seemed to be turning into, he should go slow. Regroup a little. Also he knew that Peter never skipped class no matter how much his friends tried to convince him to; he probably wouldn’t want to miss class to hang out with a near stranger, either.

[Who cares?] 

“What time is it?” He blurted out. Peter paused, glancing at his watch, before nearly leaping up from the table. “Peter?”

“Sorry, I - I’m late.” He slung his backpack on and grabbed his coffee and - “Um. I’ll be working all day tomorrow but maybe we could meet up here on Monday? At quarter to twelve? If you’re not busy…”

Wade gave him a smile. “I’ll be here. Now hurry up, I’m sure you have to remind the professor about some homework or something.”

Peter scoffed. “Don’t ever accuse me of that. I’m a nerd but I’m not  _ that  _ level. I have other stuff to do besides homework and papers, you know.”

“Sure you do.”

“Bye, Wade!” He waved at him over his shoulder before more or less sprinting through the rest of the park. Wade watched him go. 

[What better things does he have to do besides homework?]

{Uh, hanging out with us, duh!}

 

-

 

Wade decided to not wait around at his usual spot, come Monday. He wanted to see if Peter would show up, first of all; there was a suspicion in the back of his mind that the other was going to find a way to ghost him. 

[Which didn’t make sense, because hello!  _ Face _ ?] 

Right.  _ Somehow  _ having a normal looking face didn’t magically heal his heaping pile of mental issues and insecurities, who knew? Certainly didn’t shut the boxes up. 

He was carefully hidden behind a large tree when, at 11:47, he spotted Peter, who was doing a frankly adorable impression of someone who was trying to run while looking all casual about it. He thought he was late. Well, he was, but as the younger man looked around at the tables, he wasn’t as late as Wade was making himself out to be. 

From the distance, he saw Peter continue to scan the crowd, a hand fiddling with the strap of his backpack, hitching it up over his shoulder and tightening his hold. All the tables were occupied, so he took a seat on a nearby bench, still looking around, body language just radiating nervous energy. Wade groaned. Peter Parker had a boring schedule, he knew that, but damn if the kid wasn’t proving himself to be endearing. When the younger man craned his neck towards one of the park entrances opposite of where Wade was hiding, he stepped into sight, walking along a footpath.

When Peter turned back, his eyes immediately tracked onto him, the nerves slipping away and a smile coming on strong. He didn’t stand up to greet the other man, but his energy was palpable as he got closer. 

“Hey, Peter,” Wade murmured.

“Hey, Wade. I was wondering where you got to. Work?” 

“Oh you know, I’m such a precious employee that sometimes the boss can’t let me go, you know?” He stuck out a hand, and Peter took it to stand up. He startled at the jolt that went through them where they touched. Fuck, the image projector. He had gone so long without actually touching anyone with his hands that he forgot he had it on, and had reached out on instinct. The illusion hadn’t flickered, but there was a feeling of  _ wrongness  _ as Peter’s smooth palm and calloused fingers met with a thin, but present, barrier. 

Peter pulled his hand away, shaking it out. “Man,” he complained, “I hate the cold. Static shocks suck. That was a bad one.” Wade blinked.

“Yeah, I wasn’t expecting it, either.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “So -”

“Wanna get out of here? I mean - like, for lunch, or something? I kind of skipped breakfast and I’m starving. O-or we could hang out here, but then you’ll have to hear my stomach making noise every two minutes.”

“Nah, let’s get food. I’m always down for that. Anything in mind?” Peter shrugged, and they started walking down the park’s footpath, side by side. 

“I know no one actually means it when they say it, but I really will eat anything.” 

“A man after my own heart. Wanna get brunch then?”

Peter made an interested noise in the back of his throat. “Brunch?”

“Well you said you didn’t have breakfast, but it’s definitely closer to lunch time by normal people standards, and I’m always up for some pancakes.” The other man thought about it for a moment.

“Yeah! Yeah, sounds great. I think there might be a place like two blocks over that I’ve been to that does all-day breakfast. I love pancakes.” 

“Well, who doesn’t?”

“There is  _ some  _ discourse between pancakes, waffles, and French toast,” Peter countered, sounding like this was a tired argument, before shaking his head. “Every time I meet my friends for breakfast we seem to have that discussion.”

Wade made a noise of dissent as they stopped in front of a crosswalk, waiting for the light to turn. “You don’t need that sort of negativity in your life, Pete.”

The other man laughed. “Nah, they’re not so bad. I love them, you know? Even if they are totally wrong in that respect.”

After standing patiently at an intersection, watching Peter crane his neck one way and another, trying to remember where to go, he nodded in a particular direction and led the way. Just like he had said, two blocks later was a tightly packed café with a chalkboard sign out front, promising mimosas, bloody marys, and post-hangover food all day long in colorful letters.

“Wow, it’s packed,” Peter said, pushing inside anyways.

“Well, you know, Manhattan’s brunch scene is no laughing matter.”

“True. One time I was with my friend, MJ, and it was like, an hour and a half wait, but she wanted an omelette and home fries more than life itself, so she just pretended she was a representative from Uber Eats HQ and got us in.” 

“Wow, I love people who lie and manipulate for the forces of good,” Wade said, a note of approval in his voice. 

Luckily the two of them got a table right away. “Look, we didn’t even have to lie and manipulate to get here,” Peter said, opening his menu.

Wade glanced to the side in a ‘looking into the camera like you’re in  _ The Office’  _ sort of way, but it was lost on Peter.

{Sweet, innocent thing.} 

[Can’t wait to see how we fuck it up!]

“So, to carry on with our conversation last time we hung out… what do you do beside homework and papers?” Wade asked, once the waitress had taken their order and set down some coffee. Peter was pouring more than several sugar packets into his cup, followed by three creamers.

“Oh, uh, I work at Stark Industries.” Wade made an interested ‘ooh’ type noise. “It’s nothing, like, major,” he said hesitantly. “Lots of people work there.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m in the biomed section of R&D, so usually in a lab.” 

“Do lots of people do that?” Peter flushed.

“Well, uh. Not… a lot? No.” The poor guy looked worried that it was brought up. Interesting. Wade  _ could  _ keep pressing directly, because it was still his job and he was, admittedly, curious, but that wasn’t super nice. Which, again, shouldn’t have mattered because this was his  _ job,  _ but he seriously doubted Peter was some nefarious villain type; it couldn’t hurt to bring up the topic gradually. 

“Do you get a lab coat?” he asked instead. Peter nodded. “Oh, that’s adorable. I bet you look extra smart and professional in it, especially with the glasses. Like, I’d totally listen to anything that you said.” That wasn’t even a lie, but it was super fun to watch Peter’s cheeks get progressively pinker as he rambled on. “Like,  _ hello  _ Dr. Parker, you know?”

“I’m not a doctor,” he managed. 

“Yet?”

“Um, well, I haven’t even gotten my bachelor’s yet, and I don’t even know about how I’m gonna pay tuition for what I have so far, but um, maybe one day? I really love the stuff we’re working on right now. It’s all on sustainability, part of SI’s continued plan for clean energy. Did you know after that Chitauri attack in New York a couple years back, Stark redid the building to make it even more energy efficient than before? Apparently it has the lowest carbon footprint per square foot of any modern building in America!” His eyes got even wider and brighter at that, and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms in noted triumph.

{So precious, so full of pluck. He’s like a goddamn anime character.}

He was… something alright. “Sounds good to me. What’s the most environmentally friendly building in the world, then?”

“Oh, uh,” Peter’s face scrunched up. “Not sure.”

“Come on - you can spout that about Stark’s building but you don’t have an inexhaustible amount of trivia to appease me with?” The waitress came back with an impressive stack of buttermilk pancakes for both of them, along with butter and a small array of what was advertised as ‘artisanal, locally made’ maple syrup. Wade sniffed at one of the carafes suspiciously, but it did seem all-natural, even if it wasn’t as good as what he could get in Canada. 

“I’m a scientist - kind of - not a Jeopardy finalist.” Peter poured a generous amount of syrup on his short stack. “I’m sure I can come up with some random trivia facts for you.” 

Wade copied him. “Hm… Alright. I’m holding you to that. Random fun facts every hour on the hour.”

“Even when we’re not hanging out?”

Wade shrugged. “Smoke signals?” 

“I’ll give you my number,” Peter said easily. “But enough about me, what about  _ you?  _ Have you been in New York long? Done anything interesting?” 

[Thank God for that six week improv course we took.]

{The ‘yes, and’ thing was the easiest part!}

“Well I’ve been here for a couple of months, have a place up in Harlem. It’s been great. Love the crowds, the fast pace, the fact that there’s questionable hot dog vendors every two hundred feet.” 

“The constant supply of food is a bonus. There’s a great gyro place near the Museum of Natural History -”

“Is that date two?” 

“Unless you screw up this one, sure.” 

“So if I screw this one up, we can get Mexican instead?” Peter lifted an eyebrow at him and lightly kicked his shin under the table. “Ow!” 

“Did that really hurt?”

“No, you just surprised me. I mean - yes, it really did, you might have to kiss it better.”

“Hm, a kiss on the leg seems kind of tame, and weird. Is that all?” Peter stretched one of his legs up, heel resting on Wade’s knee as he continued to eat.

“How does that not hurt at all? How flexible  _ are  _ you?” Peter shrugged, chewing instead of giving a real answer. He took his foot away, obviously meaning it as a joke, but Wade was definitely curious; the chairs they were in were kind of high, and unless he personally had a running start, getting his leg up for a high kick just made him feel like he pulled a muscle in his groin.

“Maybe I do yoga,” Peter answered, syrup-coated fork tapping at his bottom lip.

“Maybe?”

Peter just gave him a look, dark brown eyes glinting with something incomprehensible, and got back to demolishing his stack of pancakes. “Maybe,” he said. “I’ll let you figure it out.”

Maybe Peter wasn’t as boring as Wade initially thought.

 

-

  
  


The pair of sleek looking spies Wade was currently fending off had surprisingly resilient tactical suits. Definitely bullet proof; he had to get up close and personal with his katanas to incapacitate them, and that was only because he was lucky enough to be packing his super-charged Bea & Arthur set. He had a feeling regular steel wasn’t going to cut it - them.

“Damn, these threads are tight. Were you two last season’s finalists for Project Runway? Tim Gunn definitely signed off on these, right?”

“Shut up!” one of them shouted. 

“Hey, I just wanna know your dealer! Suit dealer. Not drugs - well - no. No, drugs are definitely bad. I’m pretty sure the roided up coke you two are trying to deliver is  _ not  _ fun for recreational purposes.” One of the suited runners shot him in the shoulder. “Wow,  _ rude. _ ” 

“I know, there’s no class in low-grade mooks these days, is there?” The unmistakable voice of Spider-man came to him, flowing from his mouth like a blessed song to Wade’s ears. Also simultaneously came a thick net of webbing that stuck one of the runners to the side of the van the pair had been driving before Deadpool showed up, forced them to crash, and start this magnificent fight that was being picked up in  _ medias res. _

“Shit,” the other overdressed drug dealer hissed, before hitting something on her wrist and turning invisible. 

“Huh, that’s new,” Deadpool muttered. He walked backwards until he met Spider-man’s back with his own, the two slowly circling around to try and figure out where the woman got to.

“Do you think she ran off?” Spider-man asked, after a moment of prolonged silence. 

The woman appeared in front of the masked hero, gun pointed at his forehead. Spider-man ducked, and Deadpool got another shot in his  _ other  _ shoulder before getting out of the way. He fired his own gun at her wrist, causing a bolt of sparks to go flying. She cursed again, shaking her wrist out before firing off the rest of what was in her gun’s clip right at Spider-man. She had evidently deduced from the several shots she and her partner landed on Wade that he was more durable than his partner.

Luckily, Wade was able to do an impressive bout of slo-mo diving, taking the six or so bullets while Spider-man webbed her foot and  _ tugged _ , bringing her down onto the pavement with a grunt. He hefted the dazed goon over his shoulder and webbed her next to her partner. 

“You okay?” he asked, returning to Wade's side and crouching down over Deadpool’s slowly bleeding out form. “Thanks, by the way, though I kind of saw it coming and could have dodged.”

“You could’ve stopped at thanks,” Wade wheezed out.

“Sorry. Thanks, again.”

“You are so welcome! Can you call the cops while I take a quick dirt nap? One of those shots definitely hit my left ventricle.” 

“Uh, sure,” Spider-man said, before Wade’s vision blacked out, and things got quiet.

 

-

 

He came to on a high rooftop some time later. He doubted he was out for long, and glancing around, Wade saw Spider-man was standing a few feet away, inspecting some of that black cloth those two trigger happy dickwads had been wearing.

“I’m back,” Wade managed. Spidey looked up.

“Oh, hey, uh. Welcome back. I don’t know where you live so I just dropped you off by Barnard. Hope that’s alright.”

“You didn’t have to,” Wade managed, sitting up. His suit had dried blood and torn fabric where the bullets entered and exited his body, and he could feel a chill breeze hitting different patches of bare skin, but he was alright. 

“I wasn’t just going to  _ leave you  _ there.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered if you did. I get back up either way.” Catching the skyline, he saw he was only maybe ten blocks south of his apartment building. Sweet. 

“Well, yeah, but - it just seemed. Wrong. Anyway.” He tossed the piece of fabric in Wade’s direction, who caught it and looked it over. “I took a sample of their suits. Have you seen anything like it?” Wade shook his head. “This looks pretty advanced; I don’t know if their boss supplied it or what, but I don’t like the idea of every mugger and drug smuggler in New York getting their hands on this stuff.”

“Yeah, it was totally bullet resistant, and that stealth mode was bitching, not gonna lie. Those suits might have even stood up to regular blades, too.”

“What are yours made out of?”

“Super-charged steel, baby, you know I pack the good shit. They can cut through diamonds.” He winked, but Spider-man just made a concerned humming noise, taking the fabric back. “I wouldn't have even noticed them except they nearly ran an old lady over. That's like the number one rule of doing illegal shit. If you do one thing to break the law, don’t do other stuff to break the law and call attention to yourself. Especially traffic violations.”

“You saw them?” 

“Yeah, who do you think was helping that lady cross the street?” Spider-Man stared at him. “I've been working on the heroics, you know that. Even though the Avengers  _ say  _ we’re cool and they’ll call me, they totally haven’t. Aside from Stark, but that was him on his own. So in the meantime, I figured doing street level patrol stuff was a good way to warm up. Why do you think I was just walking around the last time we met up and kicked ass together?”

“I… yeah. Good point. Well I'm glad you caught up with them.” He sat down next to Deadpool on the rooftop, and Wade was a little taken aback at the closeness - not that they were particularly close, but Spidey himself had willingly planted himself there. 

“Happy to help. How did you find me, anyway?”

Spider-man tapped his temple. “Got a police scanner built into the suit to relay info. They picked up on the reckless driving too, once you jumped onto the truck and forced them to crash it.”

“Oh shit, a police scanner? Why didn't I think of that? That's a solid superhero life hack. I'm making a note.” He fished out a small notebook from his pocket and a sharpie, scrawling the suggestion down next to his grocery list.

“Write down that this material is definitely something to keep an eye on, while you're at it..” Wade nodded along, jotting that down as well, only to remember - didn’t Stark say something about Peter messing with the textile engineering department as one of his ‘suspicious’ activities?

“You think this could be ripped off Stark tech?” Wade asked, shutting the notebook and jamming it back into one of his pouches. Spider-man glanced at him again. He flipped the dark fabric over, gloved fingers tugging at the torn seams.

“Yeah, actually, could be. I should investigate that -”

“No worries, baby boy, I happen to have Stark’s home address.”

“Everyone with access to Google has Stark’s home address.”

“Okay, yeah, but I’m doing a mission for him right now, remember? He might want to know -”

“No, don’t bother, I uh, have a direct contact in SI’s R&D department. He might know more than the big boss, you know? Stark is always doing Avengers stuff, he might not know what random employees are working on, anyway, or office gossip for that matter.” Now it was Wade’s turn to stare. “Promise if I find any damning evidence, I’ll give it to you to tell Stark, give you all the credit.”

“Who’s your contact?” Wade asked instead.

“Uh, I’d rather not say -”

“Come on, Spidey, I’m just curious. I mean, I can tell you’re a nerd too, but what, do you secretly work there or something?” 

“No? No! It’s just, uh, I mean, I know him from his last job?” He coughed.

Wade’s brows furrowed. “Are we gonna have to play twenty questions here?” 

Spider-man’s shoulders drooped. “It’s your, uh, mark. Peter Parker. He used to kind of be my personal paparazzi for the Daily Bugle, a few years ago when he was still in high school. We became… acquaintances, I guess?” 

Wade frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me that before? Is that why you were surprised when I told you about him?” Deadpool gasped. “You didn’t tell him about my mission right? I’m kind of doing a honeypot thing right now and I don’t need anyone blowing my cover! I thought we were  _ bros,  _ Spidey.”

“No I didn’t! I swear he doesn’t know. It’s not like we’re attached at the hip or something. I mean, I think your first assumption of him not being guilty was right - he’s a good kid, I promise you that. I would just… keep doing what you’re doing with him, and I’ll drop by at some point soon and ask around a bit. Keep it inconspicuous. He’ll just think I’m doing super hero stuff. If  _ you  _ ask him, I mean, you’ve taken on a civilian disguise and persona, right?”

“Uh, right?”

“So wouldn’t he find pointed questions from  _ you  _ a little strange, versus a superhero he knows and gets occasional visits from for info and stuff?”

Wade stared at him. Despite NYC having millions of residents, it did seem to be a small world sometimes, but Peter Parker and Spider-man knowing about each other? That  _ was  _ weird. Or was it? How close did super heroes get to their photographers?

To be fair, this news wasn't exactly unknown to him. Wade had found out about Peter’s past work as a freelance photographer, mainly for the Daily Bugle, but he tended to be an uncredited source, so it was difficult to determine what pictures were his. Until now, of course. “I’m not sure about this,” he managed. 

“Listen, think about it,” Spider-man pressed. “Even if he was the guilty party, if you tell Stark you’ve seen this sort of tech on the streets, he might go in and confront Parker without enough evidence to back it up. If I just say, hey I’ve run across this, have you seen anything like it, he might have some leads -”

“Or, if he’s guilty, he could lie.” 

Spider-man snorted. “Peter Parker is a terrible liar, believe me. And if he is lying… you’re close to him now, right? You said something about a, uh, honey pot thing with him? Didn’t realize it was that sort of mission, by the way.”

Wade’s shoulders slumped. “It definitely wasn’t, and Stark probably wouldn’t want to know about that, but he came up to me the other week! Bought me a coffee and started chatting me up. He was even playing footsie with me a bit under the table. I mean, I figured it was the beautiful, brooding visage I had as my disguise, but I don’t know, he thinks I’m - fun? To be around?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Wade paused at the roundabout way Spider-man had just complimented him. “And if you thought he was innocent, why not end the investigation?”

“I guess I wanna be sure? He is cute, but I’ve been burned by a pretty face before. More than once.” Spider-man glanced at him, and Wade just  _ knew  _ he was on the receiving end of a look that so clearly expressed the hero’s severe doubt in his logic. “Okay, I mean, I have been asking him, like, questions and stuff, but - he’s just… nice… to be with. I don’t really get the opportunity for meaningful one-on-one interactions with people who just think I’m a normal guy, you know? And I’m hoping that if Peter isn’t guilty of corporate espionage, maybe I can find out who is. He loves his job, I don’t want him to get fired and… barred from science or something.”

Spider-man sighed and stood up again, turning to face Wade. “Yeah, I can imagine. Look, I don’t want this stuff in the wrong hands either, so I’d be happy to help you out. You know, ask a few questions and keep my ears and eyes open while you continue… investigating him, and we figure out where this,” he held the fabric up, ”came from. Together.”

Wade twisted his mouth, thinking. He was still a bit sore Spider-man didn’t give him any upfront details on Peter, but if he really thought he was an innocent bystander, or maybe he just didn’t want a civilian linked to him until this situation forced his hand, or maybe he just figured Wade would come to the same conclusions on his own and didn't need any help getting there.. “Fine,” he said. “But if you find out anything from him or any other sources -”

“I’ll let you know. Promise. If you're really serious about this hero thing -”

“- I am!”

“- Then I want to help you.” Spider-man held out his hand. “Do we have a deal?” Wade blinked. That was… actually kind of sweet. After a moment, he grabbed the other man's hand, letting himself be hefted onto his feet. He dusted himself off, and the hero shifted from foot to foot. “So, uh,  _ how  _ has your mission been with him?” 

“I haven’t found any damning evidence, if that’s what you mean.”

“I know, but, what do you, uh, think about him? Since you’re gonna be spending the foreseeable future hanging out with him, and everything.” 

Wade shrugged. “Like I said before, he’s all work and no play, pretty much. But the more I get to know him, I don’t know  - I like him a lot, as a person. Also he is just, super adorable,” he admitted without shame. He had  _ eyes  _ after all. “Like he’ll be all confident, asking to go out with me or something, but as soon as I give him a compliment he gets all bashful and shy. Makes me want to sweet talk him for hours straight just to see how red he could get. Also his legs and stupid bubble butt are just,” Wade whistled and made the ‘ok’ sign with his fingers. Spider-man scoffed, creeping towards the edge of the building to look down on everything. “Seriously, Spidey. Peter in skinny jeans can rival the view I get from you. It’s insane. Do you two go to the same gym? What's your secret?”

“Is all that going in your mission report to Stark?” The other man sounded bemused, but not in agreement. Wade frowned.

“No, it’s not relevant to the mission, I’m just telling you because, you know, we’re bros, as we established before.”

“ _ You _ established it.” 

“And you didn’t argue! Therefore it is law. What’s with the snark anyway? Not an ass man, Webs?” The other man had now gone into that deep crouch as he loomed over the city. It looked super uncomfortable, not that the hero seemed to mind. Glancing down, Wade found his assessment [ha!] on Spider-man versus Peter’s butt was still accurate. 

“No, it’s not that.”

“Is it your painful heterosexuality?” 

Spider-man’s shoulders hunched up. He turned to look at him over his shoulder. “Why do you assume I’m straight?”

Wade’s heart rate sped up. “Uh, you’re not?” he asked, in a quiet voice. Spider-man let out a sigh before turning back to scanning the crowds below. 

“Nope.”

“Gay?”

He coughed. “Bisexual, actually.”

“Oh. Cool. We can be buddies in the ‘identities that don’t exist’ group.” He grabbed Spider-man’s shoulder and gave it a friendly shake. Friendly with  _ all  _ the homo intentions, for sure. “Wait. How have I not known before?”

Spider-man shrugged. “Beats me. I stopped hiding that about myself ages ago. I go to Pride like, every year, Wade.”

Wade gasped. “Wait! So all those memes on twitter of a guy perched on buildings that say ‘no cops at Pride, just Spider-man’ - that was the  _ real  _ Spider-man?!” 

“Uh, yeah. It’s fun. And I realized how important it is for some people to have a hero that’s… like them. You know? And in case there’s some dumb fight to break up. There's a lot of reasons.”

“Which is why we have to go together next year! We can double team it!” 

[All homo intentions with that double entendre, right?] 

He shook Spider-man’s shoulder a little more vigorously. To his delight, the other man actually laughed.

“Sure, sure, we’ll go. It’ll be a blast. I’ll put it in my calendar.”

Wade actually squealed, and for the time being, he forgot about Stark’s mission, or Peter’s unexpected ties to the masked crime fighter, instead joining the other man on the ledge of the roof, kicking his legs as they looked at the city together. 

Before Spider-man left, saying he ought to take another sweep around the city to make sure nothing was exploding, he turned back to Wade. “Deadpool, I know it’s a mission, and you might have an infatuation with Peter, but… be careful with him, okay? He’s not like you and me.” Wade silently watched the other swing away. 

[That was the mildest form of the shovel talk ever.]

Still, Wade couldn’t help but agree. Peter  _ was  _ just a civilian. Even though he was smart, he didn’t have much more than his brains to protect himself, and what good were those when they got sprayed across a wall? He shuttered, and forced himself to forget that mental image, and the memories that came along with it. 

Stark had said no violence, and Deadpool was trying to turn over a new leaf. So unless Peter somehow turned out to be the next Big Bad, he didn’t think he’d be able to justify hurting him in any way at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't put this in the overall fic notes but this story started out as like two steps above a crack fic and I tried to throw in as much fandom references as I could, which is why that 'no cops at pride just spiderman' line is in there. But, like always, I add about 30% more content and start to insert philosophical naval gazing into my gay fics. Anyway I hope you guys enjoyed and see you next week!


	3. Don't be a Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for this chapter - the second scene in this fic (broken up by hyphens) features armed men holding college students at gun point. It's not graphic, the men are there to try and steal a professor's research versus actively trying to harm the students, and none of the students get hurt, but I can understand why that would be upsetting to some people. I updated the warning just in case and we'll be seeing more graphic depictions of violence later. On alien bounty hunters and mole monsters, though! Fun stuff.

Wade whistled to himself as he descended the steps into Sister Margaret’s. It was four in the afternoon, but like always, if the bar was open, then the place was packed. A few of the usuals gave him a nod of acknowledgement, more than a few stepped out of his path. He dropped himself into a bar stool right in front of Weasel. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while. Thought you died for real,” the barman said, without bite. 

“I wish. Here.” He slid a gold card out of his pocket and pushed it across the sticky wood. Weasel squinted at the name. 

“Cynthia Rodriguez? Wasn’t she -”

“The one with the restraining order against her ex-baby daddy. No, I guess you never stop sharing DNA with a kid. Ex-husband. And ex-convict. Really didn’t like the fact that a capable, caring mother had sole custody of their kid.”

“Thanks for the ‘previously on’. You kill him?”

“No, but I think I gave him a pretty good reason to never come back to New York.” 

“Are you giving her the money back, too?” 

Wade shrugged. “Just tell her to put it towards her kid’s college fund.” Weasel scoffed, but took the card anyway.

“I knew you were soft for an unkillable mercenary. But at this point you’re just flaccid. Why do you even come here anymore? You haven’t killed anyone in like, a year, Wade. It's disgusting.”

“It’s only been ten months!”

“Whatever. How’s that above-board superhero mission going? I thought Stark gave you some tech so you didn’t look like something that crawled out of the straight-to-VHS sequel of _Faces of Death_.” Wade rolled his eyes. He could have worn his image inducer, but as much as Weasel would have appreciated his face looking normal again, he didn’t want anyone recognizing a normal looking Wade going into a place for money-hungry mercs.

“You didn’t get any more info on him, did you?”

“Nothing you haven’t already heard during your Netflix and Chill sessions, probably, but here. Downloaded this last week.” He dug out his phone and tapped around for a bit, before turning it so Wade could see. It was a black and white CCTV feed of a mostly empty street. A young man was walking towards it, head held high, headphones in. The quality was grainy, but it certainly _looked_ like Peter - or a skinny white guy from Queens without a beard, at least. 

“Ooh, facial recognition software?”

“That shit still isn’t as reliable as people wanna believe. I just matched it up to the schedule I found out for you. Looks like he was on his way to the subway after class.”

Wade made a note of interest, studying the video. Peter - if it _was_ him - was walking, seemingly oblivious to the man racing behind him. Except, as he passed by, Peter stuck out his foot, making the man sprawl to the ground. “Hah! Wipe out!” Wade couldn't help but cheer. Peter knelt next to the man, picked him up by the arms, and dragged him so he was sitting against the building. He retrieved what looked to be a woman’s purse from the prone figure, turning around just in time to hand it back to a woman hurrying from the direction the man had come from. The two seemed to have a conversation, Peter pointing at the guy who had knocked himself out on his fall down. The woman shook her head, and Peter turned, walking with her the way she had come - and the opposite direction of wherever he had been going. 

"Holy shit, he just left the guy there?"

"Nah, you can see him check he's breathing for a second before he dragged him over. See?" Weasel fast forwarded the video, and the would-be mugger shook himself awake, rubbing his head, before slinking away. He put his phone back in his pocket. “Looks like your boyfriend has a hero streak,” Weasel said. 

[More trouble if we let him get close and he finds out who we are.]

{More trouble if we let him get close and he  _ dies  _ trying to be a hero.}

“Please,” Wade said, ignoring the thoughts. “we’ve barely even Frenched.” 

Weasel grimaced at the image. “Pretty sure getting cozy with a target in a spy operation is like, the first thing you don’t do.” 

“Only if they’re guilty!”

“Ever heard of double crossing? Or triple crossing? You’ve done both of those enough to know this kid could be playing you  _ and  _ Stark.” Wade frowned, hunching against the bar.

“I’ve thought of that. Just because I’m on a murder break doesn’t mean I’m not doomsdayer levels of paranoid. You’re not the only one who’s been doing a little light stalking. He doesn’t have any extra money coming in. He may be smart, but he’s still a poor college student. And he’s not flaunting anything new, and he  _ definitely  _ hasn’t made a head start on paying his tuition. Why would he do all of this without some sort of monetary gain?”

"Blackmail?" Weasel suggested.

"Maybe... But I don't know why he'd suddenly think this would be the best time to get a new... Whatever I am to him. I think being threatened takes a lot out of you, right? Not the time to get back on Grindr."

“Could be hiding some cash under his mattress.” Weasel didn’t mean it literally, but he had a point. Looking at electronic paper trails and making conversation with Peter himself would only do so much. He knew he would probably have to sneak into Peter’s house at some point to confirm his innocence or involvement with the leaks. But not yet. 

“I promise I’ll do a thorough investigation of his mattress later. Anyway. I need you to look into something else. Have you heard anything about new, top of the line equipment? Stuff with tactical suits, or the material to make them. Almost indestructible, can turn invisible, super New York Fashion Week.” Weasel raised an eyebrow.

“No one’s come to me with anything yet. But I’ll keep a look-out. You think that kid you’re watching is getting it out there?”

“I think somebody is, I just need to figure out who. I’m hoping Peter will end up leading me right to them, it has to be someone he works with.” Weasel sighed. “It’s not - I mean, it’s just not super likely that it  _ is  _ him.”

“Have you cut off his little toe or something to make sure?”

“No! I’m not doing that to him. He’s…” Weasel crossed his arms. “He, uh.” He swallowed. He didn't know what to say. Well, he did, but he hated himself for every second he thought it. “Is it weird to say, that, um. He reminds me of Vanessa? Even though he’s not like Vanessa, at all, even a little bit?” He winced at his own words. He barely knew Peter. He had known Vanessa for - much longer, but still not long enough. Never long enough. Even if it had been awhile since… all that had happened, any attempt at moving on just felt like a betrayal. Even voicing that comparison felt wrong, even if he couldn't bring himself to disagree with the notion.

Maybe the whole thing he had with Peter inevitably blowing up in his face would be his punishment for trying to move on. 

Like always, Weasel’s timing was impeccable. “Does he have tits?” 

“No. But, hey, from the back…?”

“This isn’t going to end well, Wade.”

He sighed. “I know. It’s just - nice to not be treated like cannon fodder, or a freak, or have it all end with a sales pitch to sign up with the Mutant Patrol. Like a normal person.”

“You’ve never been a normal person, Wade. Even before… That.” He gestured to Wade’s face. “Whatever, just don’t bring your depressed ass back here when this crashes and burns. Go to the X-man mansion instead. They’ll probably put you into a share circle and get you the therapy you so desperately need.” 

Wade gave him a thumbs up. “Best friends,” he said, before checking his watch. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go impress a college student.” 

Weasel, decidedly, did not look impressed. “He’s a skinnier, whiter nerd than me.”

“Don't forget broke."

“Just keep buying him food and I’m sure he’ll -” Weasel’s face morphed into one of disgust.

“What?” Wade looked over his shoulder, but didn’t see anything.

“Just thinking of you banging a nubile co-ed. Ugh.” He grabbed a glass and some top shelf vodka and poured himself a shot. “I’m sure the effort will be appreciated on his part. Or something.” He downed it without a grimace, then poured another. “Come back in a few days. I’ll have some answers for that suit problem of yours. Do  _ not  _ mention if you get lucky with your mark.” He tipped the shot glass at Wade before knocking it back. Wade sighed, got up, and headed out. 

He was a block away from Sister Margaret’s when his phone buzzed. Pulling it out of his pocket, he saw that none other than Peter texted him. Despite what he said to Weasel, he usually didn’t hang out with Peter on Thursdays, though after that first ‘date’ they had - did it count if it was a way to spy on him, even if he really, genuinely enjoyed himself? - they texted pretty often.

_ What’re you up to tonight? _

[Sounds like a booty call.]

{At 4.30 in the afternoon? And with us?}

_ \- nothing, why? _

A few minutes passed. Then:

_ Had to run to work before class only to get yelled at by my boss, and now class sucks too, wanna go see a movie and eat food so I can forget about everything going wrong in my life? _

Wade raised his eyebrows. When he had seen Peter, the younger man usually seemed chipper, no matter what bags he may have been sporting under his eyes. But whenever he tracked him, and Peter thought he was alone, he had a weariness attached to him. Looking at Peter’s schedule made Wade want to go lay on the couch and take a midday sympathy snooze, honestly. He was still surprised Peter admitted that all to him.

{A sign of trust.}

\-  _ yeah, sounds good. have you ever seen yentl? _

[That you’re definitely going to defile in the worst way possible.]

_ Cool. Also what the fuck is yentl. _

_ \- what?? it’s a classic! frozen totally ripped it off! i can’t believe we’re all owned by the company that did barbara streisand dirty like that u know? _

_ Literally have no idea what you’re talking about. _

Wade scoffed at his phone. “Millennials.” Peter sent another text right after.

_ I’ll be out of class soon. Meet me at the usual spot? _

Okay, well, the other man wasn’t totally missing his sense. 

_ \- sounds perfect. _

 

-

 

Sometimes, when Wade was set to meet Peter at the little gathering of benches and tables in the park, and Peter was running late, Wade took a leisurely stroll over to the science building most of his classes were held in, so he could catch the man just as he left. He leaned against a lion statue at the base of the building’s steps, tapping his foot and checking his phone. Despite being a brainiac, Peter wasn’t above texting him during class, but he still hadn’t got anything from him. 

“Come on, Peter, takeout isn’t gonna order itself,” he groused, only to jerk at the all-too familiar sound of gunfire coming from inside the building, followed by panicked screams and a deep, demanding yell to be silent. “Oh, shit!” He dashed up the building’s steps, but the doors wouldn’t budge. “Oh, fuck.” He was about to crash through the nearby window, only for the glass to get blown out by another round of bullets. “Okay, that works.” 

[Wait, do we have any weapons?]

{Just our devilish good looks! And a knife.}

[Shouldn’t we think this through? Not that we make a habit of doing that...]

“Exactly, it’s too late to make New Year's Resolutions now!” He ducked and rolled, landing with his legs spread on the floor of the building before immediately ducking for cover behind a large stone pillar. 

“Get back out here!” One of the guys who had been shooting at him demanded. “Get with the rest of the hostages!”

“No thank you!” Wade yelled, before slumping against the rock with a sigh. He dug his phone out of his pocket, hitting the camera app. It already had the front facing camera on - because when was the last time he was able to take a decent selfie? - and angled it to get a view of the room. There were three men in ski masks with guns, and about fifteen college students huddled in the corner of the room. But that was just the lobby - other classes had probably been in session when these guys attacked, and if no cops were showing up, that meant more men could’ve been upstairs with even more hostages.

“Wade?” He whipped his head to the left. Behind an identical pillar, none other than Peter himself was hiding. 

“Peter? Are you okay? What’s happening?” 

The younger man shook his head. “I think they’re mercenaries trying to get research from one of the professors, but they took everyone's phones and bags. I managed to hide out over here, but I can’t do anything else.”

“You got ten seconds before I start firing at the hostages!” A voice shouted. 

“I’m gonna go out there,” Wade said, standing up. 

“No, you can’t!” Peter hissed.

“One, two, three…” 

“Here.” Wade quickly slid his phone across the tile before ducking out from behind the pillar, hands up. “Alright, I’m here. See?” 

The mercenaries - Wade hated how broad that title was. He was definitely cooler than these guys - were all wearing vaguely militaristic gear. Bulky vests and combat boots. They also had bandanas covering the lower parts of their faces. Not enough effort went into the wow factor of a costume design, it was a shame. The only decent thing about the abysmal fashion choice was that they were all different colors, giving him some way to tell the men apart. 

 

“Search him,” Red Bandana said, gun pointed at him. Green Bandana had his rifle trained on the kids. Another guy - purple with paisleys, actually -  let his weapon hang from the strap on his shoulder before going over to pat down Wade - only for Wade to make a grab for the gun, holding Lavender Man around the waist with one hand while he aimed the rifle with his other. 

“Let the kids go,” Wade growled. The other two had their guns raised at Wade’s head, but he just ducked behind the struggling mercenary, using him as a human shield. “If you wanna shoot me, you gotta go through your friend.”

“Fine by me,” Red said, before firing multiple rounds in his now-fatally-wounded human shield. Wade yelped, staggering back, dragging the body with him towards the barricaded doors. 

“Holy shit! That was his last day before retirement, you monsters!”

He tugged the gun strap over his own chest, letting it pin the corpse to his back while he shoved the chairs and tables that had been jammed against the front door out of the way, pulling one open. A lucky shot by one of the remaining mercenaries severed the gun’s strap, along with the temporary shield Wade had. He caught the falling gun and aimed the remainder of the clip at the mercs’ feet, making them jump back. “Everyone out!” 

The college students knelt where they were for a few seconds. “Fucking  _ move _ !” 

And then they staggered up, making their way to the exit while Wade provided cover fire, driving both mercenaries towards the right side of the lobby. The men dove behind the pillars where - “No,” he whispered, waiting for one of them to reappear with a death grip on Peter. “Peter? Peter!” 

Still not thinking, he jumped into their hiding place, landing a punch to Green as he fell onto the Red merc. He was faintly aware of being shot in the gut and the shoulder for his heroics, but that didn’t stop him. It never did.

“Who the fuck is Peter? Get off of me, you psycho!” Red screamed, trying to claw at Wade’s arms.  

“ _ I’m _ the psycho? You were holding college students at gunpoint! They should be worrying about college student things! Like getting free wifi and the confusion of their impending adult lives and crushing student debt, not gun violence!” He winced. “Ooh, that last one is awkward. You guys aren’t MRAs, are you? Got a manifesto on Twitter I can read?” He elbowed Green bandana in the face before he could fully sit up again before turning back to the one he was straddling.

“We weren’t gonna kill them so long as no one came by to ruin our plans. It’s just business.” 

“Business, huh?” Wade decked the guy so hard across the face he went limp. “Your boss probably didn’t even offer you  _ dental. _ ” He got off the guy, and stripped him and his friend of their weapons before dragging them towards the door. 

As he bent down, he realized this shirt was covered with the unmistakable blood stain that only a fresh bullet hole could bring. “Oh, shit.” He couldn’t let Peter see him like this. Glancing around, he spotted a cluster of backpacks in the corner of the lobby, as well as a few phones scattered along the tile. Opening a few bags, he found a jacket that was a little too tight, but he forced it on and zipped it up. “As long as Peter doesn’t have a photographic memory and remember what I was wearing ten minutes ago, we should be fine,” he said to himself, before returning to the task at hand. 

He finished dragging the mercenaries outside, not bothered when their heads hit the building’s front steps. He noted that there were multiple police cars around the building, and they had already cordoned off the area. Looked like Peter managed to call the cops after all.

“Don’t shoot! That’s the man that saved us!” A blonde student with a shock blanket around her shoulders said, pointing at him. Wade dropped the mercs and rushed down the steps, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of Peter, but to no avail. He was met with a blockade of some NYPD officers instead.

“The third mercenary on this floor got killed by a case of not-so-friendly fire. But I don’t know about the other floors -”

“Our free period just started,” the same student piped up. “ESU has an hour off from five to six on Thursdays for club meetings.” 

“Another student said these guys were trying to get information from a professor,” Wade said slowly, “Maybe there’s -” 

“Look, there!” The student was pointing. Wade turned, only to find Peter himself, helping an older woman out of the building.  _ Huh,  _ he thought dimly. It was like something in his chest had been constricted for so long, he didn’t even notice it until the vice grip around his heart finally let up. He gave a sigh of relief. After a few moments of labored walking, Peter and the woman fell into step next to Wade. 

“There was one last guy up on the third floor, threatening Professor Alkesh, b-but I knocked him out,” Peter explained, sounding out of breath, his hair askew, but otherwise fine.

“You knocked out a mercenary? Who had a  _ gun _ ?” Wade blurted. Two paramedics took the professor away to assess her injuries.

“I uh, may have opened a door into him really, really hard?” Peter managed. Wade stared at him for a moment, before picking him up and crushing him into a hug. 

“Oh my God that is amazing! I wish I could’ve seen - wait! No! That’s  _ bad!  _ You totally could’ve died!” Peter pulled back, glaring at Wade.

“So could you!”

“Hello? Used to be in the special forces, remember?”

Peter glanced to the side. “Yeah, well, um -”

“Actually,” one of the officers said. “ _ Neither _ of you should have gotten involved. You both could have made the whole situation worse, and risked everyone else’s lives in the process. We’re going to need you both to get checked out by the paramedics before giving us a statement. We’re clearing the area.” The men in uniform strode into the building, and Wade relaxed his hug, but still had an arm firmly around Peter’s shoulders. He belatedly realized the younger man had managed to get his book bag back. 

“Excuse me?” Wade and Peter both turned, it was the girl from before. Peter extracted himself from Wade’s grip - he wanted to protest, because aside from Wade himself, Peter had probably been in the most danger out of anyone there. He kind of didn’t want to stop touching him, in case he suddenly disappeared.

“Heather, hey, are you alright?” The girl in question started to speak, before shaking her head, rubbing at her suddenly wet eyes. 

“S-Somehow guys with guns are a lot scarier than aliens and weird monsters,” she wheezed out. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She turned her watery eyes onto Wade. “Th-thank you, so much. I don’t care what those cops said, without you, who - who knows -” She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to regain composure.

“Hey, it’s okay, we’re all safe, and that’s what matters.” Peter soothed, pulling her into a comforting hug. “Maybe we won’t even have to do group presentations on Tuesday.” Heather sniffled in the way that crying people did when they were also trying to laugh.

“N-No way, Alkesh is  _ way  _ too strict for that,” she managed. “You _know_ ESU doesn’t let us get away with not doing work just because we all could’ve died.” 

Peter sighed. “Yeah, I know. ‘President Harrison, all the windows in the building blew out after Doctor Octopus tried out a new bomb’, ‘President Harrison, we all got beamed to an alternate reality and barely managed to get back’, ‘President Harrison, mutant lizards from outer space ate our homework’ and every time he just says, ‘But did you die? No delays!’ Ugh.” Heather was outright giggling now, drying her tears with her blanket. 

“You should get checked out. You and your friend,” Heather managed. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” She looked up at Wade and smiled at him. “Thanks again.” She hunched her shoulders and blended into the crowd of other students, some of whom looked just as shaken up as her, a few more just sitting on the curb, staring at nothing. It was mostly quiet, with only some police chatter and the distant sound of traffic to break up the grim quiet. 

“Here’s your phone, by the way,” Peter murmured, handing it to Wade. They started walking towards one of the ambulances. 

“Thanks. So uh, do you want to get checked out first, or?” He gestured to the paramedics examining a few other students. Peter’s shoulders slumped. 

“Actually - can we just - get out of here? My day was already awful. I don’t feel like spending the next six hours at a police station.” 

“But what about the paramedics? Aren’t you in shock or something?” Peter turned around to look straight into Wade’s eyes.

“Do I look like I’m in shock? I’m hungry, I'm tired, I have way too much homework, but I’m  _ fine,  _ Wade. And so are you.” He tugged on the straps of his backpack and sighed. “I just want to lay somewhere flat and not do anything for a couple of hours.” 

Wade knew he should have insisted on doing what the police said. Peter put himself in a stupid, life threatening situation - even if he did manage to get out fine. He probably needed one of those shock blankets. But at the same time, Wade knew  _ he  _ didn’t want to be at a police station for the rest of the day, and if the paramedics made him remove his borrowed jacket, they’d realize he had been shot, and that was just a whole extra slew of questions he did  _ not  _ want to navigate. He could just bail after making sure Peter stayed, but… He really, really didn’t want to leave Peter’s side. Even if Peter looked fine, he was still just a college student; he wasn’t invincible.

“Fine,” He surreptitiously steered them past the ambulance and under the ‘do not cross’ tape. “Back to your place?” Peter faltered next to him. “What?”

“Uh, it’s just - I live with my aunt, and she might be home and -”

Wade had that old familiar feeling of rejection wash over him. 

[Ah, I was beginning to miss it]

“You want to avoid any awkward questions?” he asked, softly. He shouldn’t even be pretending to fake date his mark, in all honesty, because it  _ was  _ fake - relationships built on a copious amount of lies and false pretenses could never work out, anyway - so it shouldn’t matter that Peter didn’t want him to meet his family. 

But Peter was quick to backpedal. “Not - not because of you! I mean, more because of me. I don’t - she doesn’t know I -” 

“Hang out with a weird ex-military guy who’s like thirty years old?”

“...She doesn’t know I date them. Or any guys at all.” Peter finished lamely. “I mean, I never really have, until you, actually? Not that I wasn’t interested, it just never came up.” 

“Until you forced yourself on me.” 

Peter shrugged. “You were  _ staring  _ at me. That’s practically flirting for someone like me.” 

“Alright, well, we can go to my place, I guess. Just have to head uptown. Then Chinese takeout and easy to digest bits of Hollywood entertainment.” Peter nodded, but didn’t say anything else. Wade stared at him, watching him closely, until Peter’s eyes trailed from the sidewalk back to Wade. 

“Something on my face?” he asked, smiling.

“I just - need to make sure you’re okay.” Admitting it out loud only served to remind Wade of how differently the events of the day could have gone, his stomach twisting at the thought.

[Eugh, I remember  _ this  _ feeling, too.]

{It’s even  _ worse. _ }

“I  _ am  _ okay.”

“But I want to be  _ sure.  _ And that means staring at you every couple of minutes for the rest of the day, capische?”

Peter let out another long sigh, but it didn’t sound extremely put upon. “Fine, capische.”

“Gesundheit.” Peter snorted, wrapping an arm around Wade’s as they trudged down the street together. “I still can’t believe you did that,” Wade muttered, after they had walked another block and were heading down into the bowels of a subway station. “I’m all for self-policing, but wasn’t that super stupid of you?”

Peter scoffed, getting out his Metrocard and sliding it through the reader. Wade leapt over the turnstile, shrugging helplessly when Peter gave him a look. “I can say the same thing for you! And you had them distracted, I couldn’t just let them hurt my favorite professor of quantum physics.” 

“I thought you were a biomed major.”

“I’m thinking about getting a second minor.”

Wade jumped down the last two steps onto the platform before faltering. “A second - wait, what was your first?” 

“Also, I wanted to ask,” Peter said, walking backwards and narrowly missing a sleeping man’s feet spread out on a narrow bench. “I didn’t see the fight, but that dead guy in there… Did you -”

“I tried to use him as leverage against the other two, and they just  _ shot him.  _ Wasn’t expecting that.”

Peter blinked, lips pursing. “Oh.”

“Yeah, now stop dodging the question. What was your  _ first  _ minor?” But Peter seemed lost in thought, and their train quickly rattled to a stop in front of them, the two of them getting on. 

In the fluorescent lights of the subway car, Wade scrutinized Peter as the younger man sat down, nearly melting into the hard plastic seat. His eyes gazed off into nothing. He noticed that Peter’s face looked a lot thinner, cheekbones sharper and more protruding. The light revealed how his nose curved, ever so slightly, to one side, like it had been broken more than once. The bags under his eyes were a combination of tired blue and irritated pink, making a mottled purple shade on his skin. He rubbed at them as Wade sat down next to him, and the train rumbled to life, the momentum pressing Peter against Wade’s side. Even when the speed evened out, he didn’t move, probably asleep.

Wade mentally ran through all the background info he knew on Peter that Stark, Weasel, and his own sources had managed to scrounge up.  _ Peter Benjamin Parker, 23, orphaned as a young child and sent to live with his elderly aunt and uncle in a small brownstone in Forest Hills. Exceptionally bright, graduating valedictorian despite several disciplinary issues that suggested repeated cases of being bullied, along with extended, random cases of absences and truancy, especially after his uncle’s death in a hit and run that Peter himself was the main witness for, all when he was fifteen. Then, as a freshman at Empire State University Peter’s friend Harry Osborn and girlfriend Gwen Stacy perished, just months after both Osborn and Stacy had their own fathers killed during super villain attacks in New York. Peter ended up taking two years off from school, working odd jobs to supplement the meager income his aunt could provide for the two of them with her own ailing health. When Peter entered his sophomore year at ESU he quickly gained an internship at Stark Industries, finally quitting a freelance position he held at the Daily Bugle since he was sixteen. He was usually uncredited, but Spider-man himself confirmed that Peter’s main source of income was taking photos of him. _

That was what he knew for sure. But, as usual, there was also the stuff that leaned more into rumor category - like the sightings of Spider-Man and now defunct enemy the Green Goblin during the tragic events that caused Peter's social circle to drop around him. And now, Weasel’s CCTV footage of what was probably Peter, being the hero yet again. 

_ So not only did this kid have the same origin story as the goddamn Baudelaire orphans, he seemed to have a self sacrificing streak a mile wide to boot,  _ Wade thought, frown pulling at his face even more. 

{Having everyone you love die around you tends to make you more reckless.} 

[Really? What’s our excuse?]

Wade didn’t dignify that with an answer, in his head or otherwise. He still wasn’t over telling Peter how  _ stupid  _ his move was. In a world where the Avengers, X-Men, and about five thousand other superheroes existed in New York  _ alone,  _ Peter didn’t need to risk his life for no reason. 

“My first minor is actually in photography,” said man muttered out of nowhere. 

Wade blinked, looking down at the other. “Holy shit, really?”

“I like expressing myself creatively,” he supplied, before adjusting his head on Wade’s shoulder and falling asleep for real. Wade didn’t wake him until they hit their stop.

 

-

 

It wasn’t until Wade was about to unlock the door to his apartment, an oversized bag of Chinese takeout under his arm, that he realized he probably left a small artillery laying around his apartment. “Um.” 

“What is it?” 

“I just realized I may have left some… very sensitive military documents laying out.” Wade carefully placed the loaded bag of takeout in Peter’s arms. He cradled it like the precious cargo it was. “Give me two minutes! Don’t eat my sweet and sour chicken.”

Peter shrugged. “Don’t be longer than two minutes.” 

Wade slammed the door behind him and blanched at the mess inside.

It wasn’t  _ that  _ bad, since he had been making an effort to treat this apartment like somewhere he lived versus a safehouse to crash at. It wasn’t that he was totally hopeless when it came to the domestic front - home ec had been his favorite class, next to P.E., and beating up kids for their lunch money during recess - but cleaning up was much less exciting than whatever he had been doing to create the mess in the first place. Which is how he ended up shoving an impressive array of firearms, knives, swords, a few tactical suits in need of a good wash and some repairs, and a few actual folders of sensitive information into the linen closet, that only held more weapons to begin with. 

He gathered up an embarrassingly large pile of takeout containers, receipts, and parts of his outfit that weren’t going to be salvaged no matter how hard he prayed to the Project Runway gods, and stuffed them as deep into his trash bin as it would go. He stopped in front of his dresser and took off the stolen jacket and bullet hole ridden shirt, putting on a long sleeved shirt and another zip-up instead, thick enough that you couldn't feel the bump of uneven skin underneath. Shoving the other clothes in a very overfull hamper, he walked back to the main entrance and opened the apartment door back up, trying not to look winded. 

“I didn’t eat your chicken,” Peter said immediately, sucking sauce from his fingers. Wade narrowed his eyes at him. “Just your spring rolls.” 

“I should have left you with those paramedics,” Wade grumbled, though he let Peter in, showing him to his living room and helping dump their various plastic containers out onto the coffee table. 

“Alright, so what did you want to watch?” Peter asked, cracking open a soda and drinking half of it in one go. 

“You’re the guest, what do you wanna watch? I’ve got - Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Video, YouTube Red, and all the illegal downloading sites ever, Pornhub -” Peter wrinkled his nose. “-To see if they still have that bootleg of Hamilton up!” Peter snorted.

“Well, I don’t know how to say no to that,” he said with a grin, flopping down on the couch, hands immediately going for a container of pork fried rice and a plastic fork before relaxing into his seat.. “Can we watch something funny? Some stand up or something? I don’t really have it in me to follow along with a plot.” 

“No thinking, just laughing?” Wade asked, reaching for the remote. “Got it.” 

 

-

 

The food was long gone before  _ Kid Gorgeous  _ had even finished playing. 

“I don’t think I can eat again,” Wade said, once it  _ had  _ finished. He drained the last of his beer and started flicking through the comedy section of Netflix.

“I think I could fit dessert,” Peter shot back with a grin, tugging his backpack closer to him. He unzipped it and pulled out his laptop.

“One, you're insatiable - and I love that about you. Two, that doesn't look like dessert.”

“Nah, Alkesh definitely wants everything ready by Tuesday, and I have work all day tomorrow, and probably the weekend too, if we want the lab reports wrapped up on time,” he explained, even as he was yawning and slipping further down the arm of the couch where he had propped himself. 

Wade was ten minutes into the season premiere of  _ Brooklyn 99 _ when he felt Peter's socked feet rest against his thigh, fingers hitting the keys at a steady pace. Another twenty minutes, and his legs were stretched comfortably in his lap. Wade had put an arm over his calves without even noticing for a full minute.

[Is he doing this on purpose?]

Wade glanced to the right. After a moment of prolonged staring, Peter looked over the top of his laptop, raising his eyebrows. “What?” 

Wade blinked. 

{How do we respond?}

[This is technically a great way to open an invite for some Netflix and Chill…]

{More like Netflix and blow your cover and have all that Chinese food reappear via the Upchuck Express.}

[Not as catchy…]

“Nothing,” he answered, finally. He couldn’t be sure how much time was taken up by listening to the three man show in his brain. He turned back to the TV. When Peter drew his legs back, Wade let them go. 

Except, instead of moving away, Peter just put his laptop on the coffee table and moved closer to Wade, drawing his legs up as he stared at the older man. 

Wade, after a minute of dedicated staring on Peter’s part, had to finally admit defeat and ask, “ _What_?” 

Peter shrugged a shoulder. “You were thinking about something.”

“People who have brains tend to do that once in a while.”

“You have a brain?” Peter asked. Except, unlike pretty much anyone who would make that sort of remark, he had a teasing twist to one side of his mouth, eyes still open and kind. It made Wade smile in return, and he had to struggle not to make it turn stupidly wide. “No, seriously.” He poked Wade’s arm. 

“I was… wondering how much glasses would add to that hot librarian look you're going for.”

“No one admires someone with that pained expression you just had. And technically, it’s hot scientist.”

“Not without the lab coat,” Wade countered. Peter leaned forward. Wade somehow found himself doing the same.

“You should come visit me at work, then.”

“I might be able to sneak my way in there.” 

Peter tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking back and forth across Wade's face, like he was reading a book. They dropped slightly lower for a split second before going back up again. Wade could feel his breath on his cheek. “I might just give you a guest pass if you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Oh, but that takes all the fun out of trying to sneak in.” 

"Are you sure you want to sneak in? We could probably just -" Peter twitched when his phone started vibrating, and he automatically slipped it out of his pocket. "Sorry," he said, before turning away to answer the call.

{Saved by the bell?}

[More like interrupted by the oldest romcom trope in the book...]

“Hey,” Peter said, putting the phone up to his ear. “No, I’m fine. Sorry I didn’t call or text I was, uh, hanging out with a friend. No, not MJ.” He saved his work and shut his laptop. “You haven’t met him yet. We just ran into each other…” Wade could see the apples of Peter's cheeks getting darker. “Not like that, May, jeez. Right, yeah, okay, I can get that before I come back.” He shoved his laptop in his backpack, fingers frozen on the bag’s zipper. “What? Oh my God, I didn’t even know - I ran out because class went late and I was gonna meet my friend, so I must have missed it. Is anyone hurt?” Peter’s voice had grown more concerned, and Wade couldn’t help but lean closer, wanting to get the other end of the call. He could make out intonations of a woman’s voice, but the call volume was too low to make out anything beyond that. “Oh, good. Thank God. Uh-huh. I mean that’s the most important thing, right? Listen, I’m packing up here, so I’ll see you soon okay? Yeah, love you too, bye.” He locked his phone and slid it back into his pocket. 

“What happened? Something wrong?”

“My aunt - told me about the thing at school.”

Wade furrowed his brow. “But you were there for it.” Peter zipped up his bag.

“Yeah, but she doesn’t need to know that. She’s… older. I don’t need to give her more things to worry about.” He scrubbed a hand through his already messy hair and stood up. He gave Wade an apologetic smile. “Sorry to cut and run, but I should probably get going,” he said, muffling another yawn. “She’s expecting me, and if I stay any longer I might just pass out.” 

Wade got to his feet, too. “I can walk you home.”

“Wade, I live in Queens. We’re in Harlem.”

“So?” 

Peter yanked on his shoes and walked into the kitchen, where he had hung his coat on one of the chairs. “That’s like a two hour commute if you’re lucky.”

“Well, all the better to keep you company.” Peter just frowned, tying his scarf around his neck and zipping up his jacket.

“Is this about earlier? That thing you were thinking about? I  _ told  _ you I was fine.” He stepped back into the living room and slung his backpack over his shoulders. Wade bit at his lip - and the image inducer. Its presence gave a rude reminder that this was a mission. Peter wasn’t a guy he was dating. He was someone he was spying on. Someone his boss - an actual Avenger - thought was leaking company secrets. Even though Wade couldn’t, deep down, reconcile the selfless things Peter seemed to do on a regular basis with something like corporate espionage. Either way, _this_ wasn’t in the job description. 

[His death wish isn’t your problem, so drop it.]

{Definitely don’t get into this, you know it’ll just make him angry.}

Wade sucked in a breath. “Peter, what you did was -”

“I snuck through the lobby and opened a door really hard in some guys face,” he said, dully. “Which wasn't nearly as dangerous as what  _ you  _ did.”

“And like I said before, nine years in special forces. Maybe what I did was stupid, but it was like a Formula One racer trying to drive a bus full of orphan puppies and not crash, versus someone who learned all their pointers from Mario Kart.”

Peter crossed his arms. “Your analogy heavily depends on how prevalent bananas are for the bus.”

“Like, zero. The point is - you can’t  _ do  _ that, Peter. Leave it to the cops and the superheroes. It's not your job.” 

Peter’s expression went stormy, before he turned around, and stalked to the door. He put his hand on the knob. Twisted it, opened the door an inch, then shut it again. He sighed. “When I was in high school,” he started, fingers tapping on the metal handle, “I didn't think stuff like that was  _ my  _ job. And someone close to me got hurt when - if I  _ had  _ taken it upon myself - I could have saved him. And after that I decided -” He looked over his shoulder at Wade, eyes burning with a resolution the man would clearly die believing. “I'd rather die than let someone else get killed because I didn't try to save them.”

[Self-sacrificing streak a mile wide.]

{Definitely could’ve used someone like him about twenty years back.}

Wade rubbed the back of his neck. “That's… Peter, I definitely think we need more people like you out there. It would probably make the world a better place. But it doesn’t work because none of you make it, since you go and get yourselves killed to save one other person. You need to think of the big picture, here. If you die, who's gonna cure diabetes?”

Peter squinted. “I'm not working on a cure for diabetes, Wade.”

“Or whatever you're doing! You have more to offer the world than a human shield, you know.”

Peter worried his lip, slumped his shoulders, hitched them up again. “I know, but… I can’t just  _ not  _ help people.”

“Yeah, but you can definitely choose when to augment your helpfulness so you don’t die every time you try to be a hero.”

{Everyone wants to be a hero. No one wants to just be a mostly okay person. There’s nothing wrong with being a neutral party!}

“Don’t you think dying to save other people is a good way to go?” he said, quietly. “I mean, if you had to.” 

{We sacrificed ourselves to save Russell...}

[I thought we sacrificed ourselves so we could be with Vanessa. Even our selfless acts are pretty, well. Not.}

{People are too worried about being pure of heart. You can be shitty and still do good things!}

[Yeah, but that's not  _as_ good. Somehow.]

Wade was tempted to argue more, but he forced himself to pull back. Something told him Peter going to get off that Martyr Hill any time soon. “Dying is easy, young man, living is harder.”

Despite himself, Peter’s mouth ticked up. “Don’t try to quote  _ Hamilton  _ at me to win me over.” 

“I thought the fact that we’ve been hanging out all night is proof that you _are_ won over.” Peter looked around the apartment, as if taking it in for the first time.

“Maybe you’re making progress… Maybe.” He opened the door. “I’ll, um, see you later, okay? Thanks for letting me hang out with you. And the food.”

“Like you should thank  _ me  _ for letting me stare at you for prolonged periods of time. And at least text me when you get home!” He knew Peter was rolling his eyes.

“Yes,  _ mom _ . See you.” He shut the door, thin walls making his footsteps carry for a few extra seconds before fading into nothing. 

Wade groaned, face planting onto the couch. He was  _ supposed  _ to collect intel on this kid, and now he found himself actively worrying after him like a boyfriend. What was it that Spider-man said?  _ Be careful with him. He’s not like you and me. _

{He’s about as self-righteous as Spidey.}

[I think he meant he’s soft and squishy. Very breakable. Very prone to dying and not coming back.] 

Wade would be careful with his definitely not fake boyfriend. He just… couldn’t guarantee the rest of the world would do the same. It shouldn’t even matter. This was a reconnaissance mission, not a superhero version of  _ The Proposal.  _

“I shouldn’t care so much,” he murmured, staring at the ceiling. “It’s gonna end badly, no matter what.”

[Oh, definitely.]

{No doubt about that.}

Still, he still couldn’t help the relief that washed over him when, an hour and a half later, Peter texted him that he made it home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few other random notes - I guess I've ended up taking a lot more from the Deadpool movies than I initially thought. Look, they were good movies okay? I saw 12 films in 2018 and 5 of them were Deadpool 2. Also that 'what the fuck is yentl' line had to be included because i wrote it during an early draft and after reading it aloud to my roommate, she really wanted it in the final cut. This is for you, Laura.
> 
> And you GOTTA put Hamilton references in there because the comics definitely did it enough times and both these boys love Hamilton, dang it! I haven't written anything where they start a duet of some sort yet but we'll see what happens in the next seven chapters, right?


	4. Y(our) Boss is a Dick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing multi-chaptered fics is really difficult for a lot of people, but for me, I know my main issue is the fact that I have to actually... form... and execute... a plot, when all I really want is to do is write Peter and Wade having fun conversations together. Oh well.

Wade woke up that morning with another email from another dummy account.  _ SI top floor 1pm today - to see how the project’s going.  _ Wade liked to imagine Tony did a speech-to-text for that while he was choosing which distressed graphic tee to wear that day. 

Since he had time, he shot a text over to Weasel, asking if he had any leads on the super advanced material front. As much as he hated to admit it, he was going to have to pull together what strings he had on the case of the fucking awesome tactical suits. Solving mysteries were way more boring and annoying than people liked to think, especially when there were no dead bodies involved. It almost entirely consisted of reaching out to people you knew and getting information on this or that, trying to find a pattern in all the data you got back. Way more reading and critical thinking than he liked to do on a regular basis. Even if it was about clothes that could turn invisible.

[Seriously, it’s like Cable-level tech. If we had a suit made out of that…]

{Could it be red though?} 

He also sent a text to Peter. The guy had been freaking out ever since the two of them stopped the mercenaries that were attacking his school. Not about  _ that _ , of course, just stressing over class work and getting lab reports done on time - New Yorkers really were as desensitized as all the movies would have you believe. 

_ you’re totally gonna murder that presentation in class today, baby boy! _

{Don’t you mean crush?}

[What’s the difference?]

He tossed his phone behind him, letting it land on the mattress, and started shuffling through his apartment to get ready for the day. Rushed shower, super unrushed process of making artisanal level pancakes, getting dressed, and slipping on the image inducer. He didn’t even have to look at himself in the mirror to do it anymore. Which was probably for the best. 

He’d like to think he got over his big character dilemma of being turned into the Thing’s younger brother - in that he stopped taking Weasel’s disgusted comments to heart. For a long time, it hadn’t mattered what other people thought about him because, well, his personality had never been the prettiest, even if his face had been. Before Weapon X, he could fool strangers, but everyone who listened to him talk for more than two minutes at a time were quick to realize he was a violent gun for hire with a laundry list of mental issues; the disgusted, vaguely nauseous looks he got then were about the same he got now. He just… got that reaction right away, from everyone, all the time. 

But eventually even that didn’t matter all that much, because Vanessa was fine with it. With him. 

Then Vanessa was gone and he knew he’d be alone forever. So anyone whose opinion he really cared about was gone, too. 

Looking at himself in the mirror didn’t bother him. Usually. Most days. And straddling the line between anti- and super- hero meant he had a good excuse to wear a mask on days he didn’t feel like getting into it with the general public.

But seeing what he looked like with the image inducer, an echo of what he had been before Weapon X, and comparing it with the reality in a mirror every morning? Not fun. 

{Do you think we can keep this after the mission?}

[I’m sure we can do something to it so Stark won’t want it back.]

{I’ve got a couple of ideas, actually…} 

Wade made a note of interest, but got distracted by his phone buzzing as he shoved a shirt over his head. Peter hadn’t texted back yet, but Weasel had. 

\- _Some 20 year old wolf of wall street asshole_ _ came in last night. Tried hustling some of the guys talking about some advanced textile tech he wanted to trade weapons for. Weird, alien weapons specifically. Ray guns and shit.  _

Oh. That was something. 

_and?_

\- _Got_ _ his ass kicked, got his card though. _

An image of a business card came up right after. 

“Okay… Richard Conwell. God that’s such a business student name. I bet I could find some weird, alien weapons for you.” Wade added Richard’s contact info from the card before flicking through the extensive list of numbers saved to his phone. He definitely had one or two weapons guys with eclectic tastes that could hook him up with some good shit. 

He hit a name halfway down the list and held the phone up to his ear as he listened to the dial tone. “What is it?” a voice said over the line, words pitching up and down from animal-like clicking to a gruff growl.

“Lkrotholisth, heyyy, it’s DP. Was wondering if you could hook me up with a weapon or two. Something exotic, I need to impress a client. The sooner the better.” 

“A client, hmm? Come down to the usual place in a few hours, I think I have just the thing. Bring lira this time.” The line cut off, and Wade shoved the phone back into his pocket. Just like he thought - it was all about knowing who to contact for what.

[Does this mean we get to do a sting operation?]

{I thought this was gonna be a will-they-won’t-they with Peter, not a full on Law & Order episode!} 

“Okay, so it’s… eleven,” Wade said to himself, slipping the image inducers onto his hands. They immediately tightened and conformed to his skin tone, like gloves with the thickness of tissue paper. He strapped his Hello Kitty watch onto his wrist. “If I leave now I can probably start snooping around SI before talking to Stark, then I can get some cash and buy some alien doohickey…” He glanced at the fridge, pulling the top sheet of note paper off the pad, staring at the various things he had on his grocery list. “Ooh, I keep forgetting to get basil. I told Peter I’d cook him dinner this week.” He shoved the list in his wallet and freshly cleaned carbon fiber knife into his boot - didn’t want to set off any metal detectors, after all - before heading out. 

 

-

 

Stark Industries was just the same as the last time he visited, and all those other times he broke in to see if the Avengers held any killer parties after saving New York. Too postmodern for him, honestly. Just concrete, glass, and polished surfaces. 

{No pizzazz at all.} 

[I’m sick of all the futuristic stuff looking like it came out of the Apple store. Or the Apple store but in black. We need a new aesthetic.]

He nabbed an ID card off some guy in a security vest that had gone out to smoke, and scanned himself into the building, acting like he was just some guy who was wandering in on his day off. He waited with a crowd of employees for an elevator to arrive.  

The elevator had gone up to the higher floors, and Wade followed a group of lab coats out once the doors opened. The scientists quickly dispersed, going to their respective labs. Wade watched them all tap their cards to a reader before the doors let them through. 

He wasn’t a scientist, but the guy whose ID he had stolen - one Jason Alfredo Esposito - was a security supervisor, after doing a little digging on Facebook while he waited for the elevator to arrive. Which meant he probably had some level of clearance, right? 

All the readers attached to the lab doors just beeped obnoxiously at him every time he tried to get into one. The same thing happened on another, lower floor of the R&D section, too. Either Jason was lying about his career on Facebook, or SI kept their rooms more locked down than his own childhood memories. He wondered if that was true for the other departments. He checked his watch. Hello Kitty’s rotated arms told him that his meeting with Stark started five minutes ago, and he reluctantly got back into the elevator. He could look around more on the way back down.

“How’s the investigation going?” Stark asked, once he stepped onto the top floor. No preamble, just like before. 

“Wow, no greetings, no complimentary peanut butter M&Ms, I’m putting this lack of service on Yelp as soon as I get the wifi password.”

“It’s an open network, Deadpool.”

“Hm. Must’ve been banned. Anyway! I made contact with Peter Parker. And before you get all mad, he came up to  _ me _ , and I just rolled with it. But I’ve been managing to get info on him and his personal life.”

“And?”

“Well, first of all, he knows Spider-man, like, oh-em-gee! File that away for trivia night.”

Stark narrowed his eyes. “Wilson.” The man clearly wasn't in the mood to play games.

[Tough, considering who he hired for this.]

Wade considered, for a moment, considering about telling Stark about the criminals that he and Spider-man had fought that had been using what looked like repurposed SI gear, but forced himself to stay quiet on the subject. Spider-man had urged him to remain quiet on that front, not wanting Stark to go on a rampage without knowing all the facts. Even if that meant he couldn't give Stark the information he wanted,  Spider-man had given him a sign of trust when he admitted to knowing Peter Parker, and had also done him a solid by offering to look into it on his end. Wade could at least extend the same level of trust to him. 

He wasn’t used to having people believe in him, and, well, it was nice. He didn’t want to betray that. So he’d keep it to himself for now.

Wade sighed. “Honestly, Stark, I’m not getting anything from him. He clearly loves where he works, has nothing but respect for you, and he seems pretty innocent in general.” Those quips about yoga notwithstanding. “I did manage to get into his phone and check his school, work, and personal email accounts last week,” he added. Wade’s sleight of hand and Peter’s giant mound of school work had made that easy enough.

“And?”

“Nothing except a lot of promotional ads for craft stores and Starbucks. Work emails - Peter’s lab is super petty about Christmas potlucks, by the way -  but nothing incriminating. I even got into contact with all your competitors that operate in NYC with a biomedical engineering department; Oscorp, Alchemax, Horizon Labs, etc., etc., and the facilities, pay, and benefits don’t come  _ close  _ to what you offer him in the same position. There’s no evidence that he’s looking elsewhere.”

“What about outside the city?”

Wade shook his head. “Not gonna happen. He lives with his elderly aunt, the only family he has left, and he wouldn’t leave her. I even ‘accidentally’ bumped into her once while she was out shopping; we made conversation, and she even admitted that she wouldn’t ever want to leave her current residence in Queens - even the Chitauri attack a few years back didn’t phase her.”

Stark grunted, the furrow in his brows betraying frustration. He turned away from Wade, walking towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over the rest of the city.

“Look, I can send you the rundown of his schedule and everything I’ve found, but the only slightly suspicious things I’ve seen from him is that sometimes he takes walks late at night.”

He turned his head. “Do you follow him?” 

Wade twisted his mouth. This part was the  _ one  _ niggling suspicion he had left about Peter, and he hated that he was about to admit it, even though that’s what Stark hired him for. “I’ve tried, but I never see him leave. I only see him when he tries to sneak back into his house. Usually he’s out anywhere from eleven at night to two or three in the morning, but the intervals are random, there’s no pattern, and he never comes back with anything but his school bag, or sometimes takeout. Which seems more in line with drug peddling than corporate espionage, so maybe make him pee in a cup?” Stark still wasn’t looking at him, but it didn’t take an empathetic mind reader to recognize the waves of irritation coming from him.

“Look,” Wade tried again, “this isn’t the first time I've been hired to stop someone selling company secrets. And this guy just doesn’t fit the profile. He loves you and his job, and usually if you're selling secrets to the highest bidder, you meet in a restaurant or at that corporation, and I cross referenced multiple times Peter was out late at night with security cameras covering the entrances of all your main competitors.” Well, he made Weasel do it, but still, “and he definitely hasn't been to any of them. As far as I can tell, he’s just jogging around Queens, or going to get pizza, or meeting with a side chick, or something.” That last idea made Wade frown; Peter was shy, but he was a charmer in some respects. If he did have a secret lover that Wade didn’t know about... that meant  _ Wade  _ was definitely the side chick. 

{Oof. That’s rough.}

The other man turned around, fearlessly leaning against the glass pane, one leg crossed over the other. “So you don’t have anything useful on him?”

“Not on him. But one of my contacts did say some kid came to his bar, his name was Richard Conwell, at least that’s what it said on his business card. He was looking for a buyer of some super advanced material to make tactical suits out of. Is that something you’re working on?”

“Yeah, it is,” Tony said slowly, “the textile department has been trying to combine nanotechnology so that a suit can become more dense on impact for protection, and refract light for invisibility. We even have some self-repair tests going. That’s what I thought was being leaked. Did you catch this guy?” Wade shook his head. “JARVIS, anyone in our employ by that name?”

_ “Two sir. One is a janitor who has been working here for three years, the other was an intern five years ago.” _

“What are their ages?” Wade asked.

_ “The former is 45, according his files. The other Richard Conwell was twenty-one when he began his internship here. He should be twenty-six now.”  _

“My friend saw him, not me,” Wade said. “Said the guy was young. It could be him.”

“He wouldn’t have any clearance anymore. We didn’t start working on those textile projects until last June.” 

“Could’ve made some friends that still work here.” Wade offered. “Either way, I’m gonna try and set up a point of contact to get more info out of him. He wants to do a trade-off instead of getting cash. Weapons. Weird ones.” 

Stark raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to give the guy who’s been leaking my stuff weapons?”

“It’s a sting operation! Have you watched any cop thing like, ever? The original run of  _ 21 Jump Street _ perhaps?” 

“Okay, fine. Do what you have to do. And make sure you ask him about Peter once you apprehend him.”

"Wh- Really? Peter?" Wade lifted his arms in exasperation. "I just told you this different person was seen talking about your tech in what is basically 'Black Market: the bar'. Peter isn’t a priority anymore. He probably shouldn’t have ever been, if you ask me.”

“But how can you be sure?” Stark pressed, moving closer to Wade. “You just admitted he leaves for lengthy periods of time at night and you can’t track him - how is that not cause for concern? Need I remind you he’s able to ditch my trackers? All you’re telling me is that he’s really good at  _ pretending  _ to be innocent.”

{He has a point...}

Wade pressed on, regardless. “I’ve also ruled out the plausibility that he’s being headhunted by any other corporations, Spider-man himself vouched for the guy, and everything else about him checks out. I mean, have you found  _ anything  _ actually incriminating while he’s in the building?” 

Stark walked over to an idling holographic program and flicked through it, glancing at what looked to be a time sheet. “He stays late, or comes in early, according to the time clock and the surveillance, and he does go into other departments more than he should, but that’s it. Everyone loves working with him, no complaints from HR or any upper management. He’s…  _ technically clean  _ on my end.” He looked up at Wade, dark eyes reflecting the blue light of the image. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not doing something we’re not seeing.” 

“I guess,” Wade huffed, crossing his arms. “Look, it’s New York, people do weird shit all the time - I’m not saying he might not be doing shady shit at two in the morning, but I don’t think it’s work related. He’s a college student , for fuck’s sake - and aside for some super tragic origin story shit that he’s had to handle, he’s totally normal. I’ve tracked him for almost a month. He doesn’t have Russian sleeper agent training; if he was hiding something, he would’ve done something to slip up by now, and he hasn’t.”

“You seem defensive,” Stark accused. 

[Wow. Okay.]

“You seem to be projecting,” Wade managed, his low voice instinctively dropping lower. 

{Are we really doing this?}

[Gotta defend our Petey-pie, right?]

{He is definitely not  _ ours _ .}

“If he’s too much to handle for you, Deadpool, I can hire somebody else. Someone who can get the job done.” Wade’s hands tightened along his biceps, nails digging into the skin. 

A few mercenaries that were of similar quality popped up in his mind and - they were  _ not  _ going to be as nice as Wade was. Sure, maybe they could keep their distance, but Peter could be slippery when he wanted to be. And his behavior in that respect  _ was  _ cause for concern, he knew, and any mercenary worth their salt would pour everything they had into figuring out where Peter went. Tailing him, putting trackers on him, and when that didn’t work - because it hadn’t for Wade - interrogation. Stark might tell another mercenary to be delicate, but they were all in it for the money, and would be happy to ignore Stark’s instructions as a means to an end.

That thought had crossed his mind, once or twice, but after seeing Peter up close and personal, he just -  _ couldn’t.  _ He could only hope to get close enough to Peter that he could find out what the other man was doing on those late night ‘runs’ of his, but the thought of bending something that wasn’t meant to bend, or threatening him with one of his knives or guns or something even more ‘innovative’ just made his gut twist up.

“If you hire someone else,” Wade started slowly, “I’ll tell him what you’re planning, and offer my services for retaliation for whatever comes his way. You wanted PI style work, right? That shit takes time. I wish I had a definitive answer for you, I do, but I’m working a certain angle the best I can, and you hired me because I’m a third party who isn’t going to send one of your best and brightest into a mental hospital for PTSD, or to another company. My competition definitely would.” 

Stark’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head. “You care about him.” 

Wade looked off to the side. “I’m trying to be impartial.”

“Impartial?  _ I  _ hired  _ you! _ ”

“To find evidence!” Wade shot back. He had to consciously unclench his jaw. “And I haven’t found anything definitive, like I said. It’s all circumstantial, and that just isn’t enough. He could be working with someone, or another employee could be using  _ him _ . If he’s personally getting your tech to other buyers, I promise I will gift wrap him myself and deliver him to your doorstep, but I’m not about to do all that without reason. You  _ wanted  _ a reason. Remember?”

Tony stared at him. Wade had come in wearing the image inducer, because when cool science fiction tech gives you the ability to have normal looking skin again, you take it. The downside to his current rugged handsomeness was the fact that he didn’t have a mask to hide behind, and fuck - Tony was  _ still  _ staring him down. He could feel his jaw working uncomfortably again.

“As soon as you find  _ anything, _ I want to hear about it.”

Wade held the first three fingers of his left hand up. “Scout’s honor.” He saluted.

“ _Deadpool_.” 

“You’re right, those intolerant bastards get the spotlight too often.” He switched hands. “Girl scout promise.” He turned on his heel and headed for the elevators. The doors closed behind him and he leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths through his nose. It didn’t do anything to calm the racing thoughts in his head. 

On one level, Stark was right - he was only pushing so hard for getting better evidence because of the  _ relationship _  he had with his target. __ Who knew what he’d be saying if Peter had never sat down across from him that day and struck up a conversation; if they hadn’t fit so well together. And maybe it was an act, somehow. Maybe Peter knew he was being watched, and was throwing Wade off his scent.

Similar to initial journey up, there were quite a few stops on the way down. For the first few floors, he had been alone - no one got up this high unless they were an Avenger, or Avenger-affiliated in some way. He turned to look at his reflection in the mirrored back wall of the elevator, trying to school his expression back from one of murderous intent. He thought he succeeded and began to pace the small area, trying to figure out his next move.

Right now there were too many variables. He knew Stark had a point, but even if Peter was leaking the plans for that suit, there were still gaps. The lack of money coming in was a big one, and now he had the name of the guy who stole the specs in the first place - or at least, that guy’s middle man. He’d have to look deeper into SI and Peter’s life, he knew that.

{I hate solving mysteries.}

[Is he guilty or not?]

Once he descended further, the elevator made frequent stops. He saw a few men and women in smart business suits and briefcases, a few more with security gear, and still more with lab coats on. 

On the 62nd floor, Peter Parker stepped on. He had clearly made an attempt to smooth out his hair with only marginal success, and he had those big glasses on his face - usually on their dates he went without - and the lab coat was, indeed, present. Like Wade said on their first date together, the whole look was very… 

{Distracting.}

[Super hot. Like stupidly hot. Like that one porno with the doctor who treats the guy with nymphomania, but you know, with his dick.]

{Fuck he’s looking at us.}

“Wade?” Peter gaped at him. Luckily the other elevator occupants had gotten off when Peter had stepped inside, so they were alone for the next couple of seconds. 

“Uh, hey, Petey. Fancy seeing you here, huh?”

“Yeah, uh. What  _ are  _ you doing here?”

“I just… wanted to congratulate you on totally ganking that presentation this morning?” He mimed shanking someone in the gut.

“Eh!” Peter said, making the universal ‘wrong answer’ buzzer noise with his mouth. “But I did crush it so thanks for that.”

“Well, can I say I snuck in to have lunch with you?”

“You  _ could _ , but that would probably be a sign that you’re stalking me. Also my lunch break ends in five minutes.”

“Coffee?” Peter gave him a look, and Wade sighed. “Okay, fine. My military branch have a contract with Stark Tech and since I’m now in NYC, they wanted me to be one of the representatives. I was just meeting with him,” he lied easily. “Just got lucky to see you on my way out.”

“...Oh. How’d that go?” 

Wade shrugged. “Tony Stark is more prickly when he’s playing businessman than when he’s in an Iron Man suit or at a charity gala, but okay I guess.” Wade managed what he hoped was a casual smile and eye movements that stayed on Peter’s face, versus his hands or the small shadow of his collar bone because he already unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. Peter had been right, he really could pull off that hot scientist look. 

And despite being in the center of this whole confusing mess, seeing the younger man give him an adorably awkward smile in return made him so much calmer than any bullshit breathing exercises could ever hope to accomplish. Knowing that he was  _okay,_ that Stark didn't sic someone else on this guy, that he wasn't tied up in a warehouse somewhere being intimidated and terrified for what could just be a weird habit of late night runs.

{It probably isn't that.}

[We all have our secrets.]

{Which is why spies are a thing. They find out those secrets. Which is what we're supposed to be doing!}

[No one said we couldn't try to be nice while we did.]

{There's a difference between being nice and being horny for a twinky college student, I think.}

Peter shifted the box he was holding in his hands. There was some grease collecting at the bottom, and the image of a pink doughnut on the top, coupled with a list of addresses. 

“Oh, Meritage bakery?” Wade asked, reading the text. “Their doughnuts are the best.” 

Peter chuckled. “I know right? I lost my employee ID, so I’m bringing it down to the IT guys to soften the blow when I ask them to make me a new one.”

“I didn’t know they could do that.”

“Well they’re not  _ supposed  _ to, but one of the guys, David? He does it on the sly for me. If you lose them too often it’s a safety issue, you know? HR makes a big deal out of it.” 

HR, who apparently never had a problem with Peter Parker. Wade felt both elated and guilty at the opportunity the younger man was presenting him with. The younger man had liked to claim he wanted to keep work at work, but now that they were literally  _ at  _ work, Wade could get away with digging up some intel - it was really just making conversation, right? “You can’t get around the building without them, then?”

“Uh, some of the lower floors you can, and Tony Stark and Ms. Potts can get in anywhere, but other than that? Yeah, it’s super restricted.” 

“But what if you, like, had friends in one of the other sections?”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Friends?”

“Yeah, those people you like to spend time with and do fun things together?” Peter’s expression shifted into a mock glare. “I mean, I don’t know, what if you wanted to drop by a different lab department to see if they wanted to get lunch - or if someone stole a stapler.” The elevator doors opened, and Peter walked out, Wade trailing him.

“Oh. I guess you just hope someone’s there to let you in. You can usually bypass it if it’s an emergency, but a missing stapler is  _ not  _ an emergency, so.”

Wade was going to ask  _ who  _ would be able to issue a bypass, but then Peter knocked on a glass door. It was a similar setup to the labs upstairs, although the amount of computers increased and there wasn’t a pipette in sight. A run-down worker in a collared shirt glared at Peter, only to brighten at the doughnut box he was holding. The door opened.

“I come bearing gifts,” Peter said, and the pair of them walked on through. Inside was a cacophony of people frantically typing and clicking, the subtle, ever-present buzz of technology raising, along with the room’s temperature, with so much processing power happening at once. 

“Is there a Boston creme in there?” The IT gatekeeper asked. 

“For you, David? Always.” David promptly led them to a crowded desk and sat heavily in his chair, which was impressive, given he was as lanky as Peter was. He rifled through the box, making a pleased noise and biting into a mouth-wateringly delicious looking doughnut. Wade’s stomach rumbled. “So since I have you here, I -”

“Lost your ID card again?” Peter’s shoulders slumped. “Jeez man, that’s like the third time this quarter.”

“I know, I know, I just keep - misplacing lab coats? And jeans, and anything with a pocket, really. Can you help me out? Please?” David let out a long suffering sigh, before pointing at Wade, who had been examining a framed picture of David and what must have been some of his friends, dressed up as different Avengers A-listers. David was Captain America, another guy was Iron Man, and the third was Thor. The costumes weren’t half bad, either, though Cap and Thor definitely lacked the crazy, bulging biceps.The metal-looking parts of the Iron Man suit were admittedly clutch, though. 

[Why do people dress up as superheroes in universes where they actually exist, anyway? Shouldn’t it be boring?]

{People dress up as celebrities all the time.}

[For Comic-con, though? Seems lame.]

“What about him?” David asked. Wade slammed the picture down and put his hands behind his back.

“He’s, ah, just getting a tour from me. He’s fine.” 

David turned back to his monitor. “Alright, so what did you need access to - your lab on the 62nd floor, staff rooms, and the -”

“- The usual, you know,” Peter said with a shrug. David glanced at him, then at Wade.

“Right. Got it. I’m sending this to the printer now, just pick it up on your way outta here. Or - do you want to try taking another ID picture?” He tapped the small camera pasted to the top of his monitor. 

Peter sighed. “No thanks, I think that last one is as good as I’m gonna get. Thanks again, David, I’ll see you around.” He gave the other man a wave and headed back the way they had come, surreptitiously snatching up a piece of laminated paper from a printer, cracking off the borders until he was left with a new ID badge. 

“Lemme see the picture,” Wade said, crowding up behind Peter.

“Wh - no! It’s awful. Wade!” Wade had already snatched it, practically dancing into the elevator as Peter trailed behind. 

“How bad can it be? Tried to pull off a beard? Wear too much blue eyeshadow? I’ve made  _ that  _ mistake before.” He looked at the badge, trying to memorize any relevant information. Peter B. Parker, SI researcher, PT, a bar code at the end that’d grant him access to pre-approved areas, and a picture of Peter himself, looking like an adorably rumpled college student that had obviously just ran to work. “Aww, this is what you call a bad picture? It’s like you’re always an eleven out of ten, Petey.” He tossed the card back, Peter clutching it to his chest. 

“Trust me, it’s a bad picture. It looks like I’m surviving off of five hour energies and hope alone.” 

“Still pretty, if you ask me.” Peter coughed, shoving the ID card into his pocket. He jabbed the ‘close doors’ button on the elevator, and Wade helpfully leaned forward to press the lobby button. “Wanna play hooky with me?” He murmured. Peter turned his head.

“I - I should get back. There are some samples I’ve been observing for signs of mutation, and -” Wade made a shooing motion with his hand.

“I get it, all work and no play. I’ll see you soon, though, right? I get bored when you’re not around. And we still have to go to that gyro place near the History Museum. You promised, I think.”

“I don’t know if I  _ promised _ , but - yeah, let’s do that soon, okay?” Peter walked forward a step, hand reaching up to Wade’s face, to cup his cheek - to maybe kiss him? 

[Can’t do that unless you want to give him a nasty shock.] 

With that helpful reminder, he jerked back, just as the elevator doors dinged open. “Sorry - gotta run! Text me later, baby boy!” 

He didn’t run out of the building, but he did maintain a steady power walk until the elevator doors closed behind him. He made an immediate bee line to the front desk, pushing a few people out of his way and trying to recreate his old thousand-watt smile for the unimpressed secretary before him. “Hey, hi, sorry, this is super embarrassing but my roommate Jason Esposito left his ID card at home and I needed to bring it in. He works in security?” Wade asked, sliding the card out of his jeans pocket and brandishing it.

“I can give it to him,” the secretary said, reaching for the card.

“That would be  _ awesome,  _ but he also texted me saying he needed some Imodium, stat, something about getting lunch at the new Thai food truck down the block. I told him to try it  _ after  _ the health board rated it but he’s kind of a foodie, you know how it is. And I figured you needed to talk to these guys too, right?” Wade jabbed a thumb over his shoulder at the handful of impatient looking people lined up behind him. “And he said he really,  _ really  _ needs it or else he might -”

“Okay fine!” the secretary couldn’t quite manage to school her features to hide the disgust. “Take the elevator to floor nine, security room B-2. He should have an office there. The… bathroom is down the hall from there, on the left.”

Wade dipped slightly in a mock bow. “Jason thanks you profusely.”  He turned back towards the elevators and headed up. A short ride later, Wade was finally let into the security office, the card making a satisfying  _ beep!  _ on the reader. Despite the department name, these guys didn’t get much clearance. Certainly didn’t rank high on the corporate ladder to the sky. 

[You would think companies would show more respect to security guards.]

{And have a better hiring process for them. I’m pretty sure having a bunch of morons watch security cameras and patrol around  is begging to get broken into.}

Wade briskly walked past the cubicles towards the back, where some small offices were laid out, frosted glass granting privacy from the rest of the floor. He found B-2 and, using the key card again, was let inside.

[Maybe Stark doesn’t really need them? Everything is automated and run by robots here, right?]

“For all eighty-plus floors of this place?” Wade muttered to the group chat in his head. “Maybe Stark put some special precautions on the the higher up floors, but who needs to watch Mark in Accounting? Or Jessica in the PR department?” He fished around in one of the many inner pockets of his coat, procuring a small USB drive. He had a little dish of them in the apartment, just in case he needed to do some emergency hacking. He slipped it into one of the open ports on the desktop before leaning over the monitor. It was just in sleep mode - Jason  _ had  _ left for a presumably quick smoke break, after all. It was already logged in. “Oh wow, this is too ea- never mind. Not gonna jinx myself.” 

Checking to make sure the USB was connected, he grabbed a roll of tape from the top drawer of the desk and ripped off a piece. He left the office, sticking Jason’s ID to the door, before heading back out. He texted Weasel as he left SI. 

_ can you hack into SI for me? pretty please? already put one of your fancy usb things in a security officer’s pc. _

_ oh, and a tracking bug on some IT guy’s desk. _

_ \- Jesus christ. Sure, indict me for spying on goddamn iron man. _

_ so that’s a yes? :) _

_ \- Fine. But I’ll probably need most of today and tomorrow to actually get in and start pulling out info. And unless you wanna be interim bartender at SM’s… _

Wade sighed, rolling his eyes. He shouldn’t complain, Weasel was one of his oldest friends that hadn’t been murdered (by him or another morally bankrupt guy) and Wade knew  _ he  _ couldn’t hack for shit unless he had a writer that said he could. He had a faint notion that hacking into things wasn’t nearly as fun as you’d think it’d be, anyway.

_ No thanks. I’ll come by when you’re done. I need to contact that wannabe Zuckerberg kid anyway.  _

_ \- Cool. Good luck. _

He shoved his phone into his pocket and turned a corner, towards the nearest subway station. Now he wouldn’t have to take Stark’s word at face value anymore. He could find out for himself what Peter was doing at work - and what anyone else was doing, too.  

[Kind of a lot of effort to expend on someone you can never be with.]

He frowned. It wasn’t about that… Exactly. Maybe. It was about finding the truth.

[You don’t care about the truth. You just want this kid to like you.]

{But as soon as he tries to touch you he’s going to realize you’re a liar and a monster. He won’t want anything to do with you, even if you told him why you got close to him.} 

[You’re going to be alone again.]

{You’re always going to be alone, Wade. No one sticks around for you.}

[Why do you even -] He had been blindly walking, and crossed the street without looking. A taxi blared its horn at him, stopping inches from hitting him. Other cars joined the first at honking at him as he forced them all to back up in the rush of downtown traffic. He blinked at the angry driver and kept walking, making it to the sidewalk. 

It was fine. He was fine. This was all just… part of the journey, right? No one stuck around for anti-hero, ‘killing isn’t a big deal, actually’, Deadpool. Maybe they’d give hero Deadpool a chance. 

Sure, he knew Peter wouldn’t want to be with him once he found out the truth, but he was still an innocent guy, someone who had been through a lot, seen too much death and tragedy for his age. He deserved a chance to be happy, to not have this nonsense hanging over him; to have someone looking out for him. Even if Wade never got the same shot. Heroes never seemed to be happy, actually, now that he thought about it. But at least people were happy to  _ see  _ them.

Wade already wasn’t happy. He didn’t have anyone who perked up when they realized he was there, not after Vanessa died. Peter did that, true, but - it was all based on a lie. And once Peter saw that, he’d leave, too. 

Which... Was fine. If that’s what being a hero meant. 

Right?

 

-

 

As soon as Wade met up with Lkrotholisth, he was greeted with a treasure trove of strange weapons kept in a storage locker up in Washington Heights. 

Lkrotholisth looked vaguely liked Data; kind of human, but not. Apparently his real form looked more like one of Lovecraft's Old Gods his name reminded Wade of, and he used a disguise to protect the ‘puny humans’ from a visage that was so terrifying that no man could truly comprehend, blah blah blah.

{If we had a dollar for every time we were confronted with something that’d turn you insane as soon as you looked at it and we turned out totally  _ fine - _ }

[-we probably wouldn’t need to take any jobs from anyone, at all, ever again.] 

Wade looked through some of the more esoteric designs. He had a feeling this Richard kid would still want something he could interpret as a gun, but, you know,  _cooler_. He held up a white ray gun with embellishments along the side. It had a few dials, and a button instead of a trigger.

“Ahh, a man of taste as usual, Deadpool.” 

“Why, what’s this one do?”

“It can change someone’s matter on a genetic level - turning them into piles of non-functioning mass from which no being would ever recover,” Lkrotholisth’s unique voice dipped and peaked as he explained. Then he added a perfunctory, “or perhaps, a rabbit. If you get the settings right.” 

Wade immediately took his phone out, pressed record, and turned, firing at a spider that had made its home in Lkrotholisth’s storage shed, and the thing melted into a pile of black and red goo. The press of the trigger-button had made the gun glow, strips of magenta lighting adding an extra flair of the dramatic. He saved the video and texted it to the number on the business card Weasel procured.

_ hey stranger, heard you wanna sell a sweet-ass suit for a sweet-ass weapon. will this do the trick? _

He made small talk with Lkrotholisth while he waited for a response. “Why lira, anyway?” Wade asked. He aimed at a nearby bird that was picking for crumbs in the gravel outside. 

“It looks incredibly similar to the most popular currency used in the Rekelsiar system. My wife suggested we go there for a vacation next year.” Wade made an interested noise in the back of his throat and fired at the bird, but the gun made a suspiciously empty sounding click. Not that he was expecting ammo of the traditional sort to be inside, but still. He examined it, hitting the trigger button over and over, turning the various dials this way and that, but nothing else happened. 

“Do you have ammo?” Wade asked Lkrotholisth, the dealer shook his head. 

“No, that one was acquired at a bar in Knowhere.”

“Acquired, not bought? Did you steal this while some alien went to whatever the alien version of the ‘john’ is?” He was about to look for a new weapon to try and pass off to the kid when his phone beeped. 

_ \- Fuck yes! When can we meet? _

Hmm, too late now. The kid seemed interested in the thing. “Can I negotiate a discount here?” he asked. Lkrotholisth, who never did deals,  _ ever _ , just growled, his visage flickering and stretching into something beyond what Wade could really… grasp. It was like a 5D image in a 3D space. No matter which way he turned his head, Wade couldn’t figure out how Lkrotholisth worked. He did notice that the alien’s form seemed to be bending the light as well as his own appearance, and now Wade was definitely getting a headache. “Ugh, fine. Here.” He handed the… churning, formless material of alien the metal briefcase he had brought with him. Lkrotholisth sank back into his more human form once he opened the case and saw half a million Turkish lira inside. 

{Technically, we’re only out about ten thousand US dollars.}

[It still took like half a day to get all the cash converted. So many AAAs and random travel kiosks…]

“Nice doing business with you,” Lkrotholisth rasped out. Wade gave him a salute with the ammo-less, DNA-ruining gun and headed out, texting a reply:

_ as soon as possible works for me. _

By the time he got back to his apartment, he had a time and an address for tomorrow evening. Hopefully that meant this case was wrapping up sooner than later. Which also unfortunately meant that his time with Peter was running out. He sat on his couch, text thread with said man open on his phone, and sighed. This was a heroic thing, right? Well, not the lying part, but the thing about setting free the ones you lov- er, really, really like, right? 

Yeah. 

Even if he couldn’t get anywhere with Peter Parker, it looked like he was a step closer to exonerating him. 


	5. W.W.S.M.D.

Not long after Wade met a time-travelling, brooding hottie named Cable, formed the most amazing superhero/mercenary team ever (that was now just a fancy name for the bowling league that consisted of him and Domino every other weekend) and helped take down the Juggernaut, a few things happened simultaneously:

He went back to New York, because even though he blew up his and Vanessa’s apartment, and the building, and some of the surrounding buildings… He still didn’t feel ready to take his vows and join the abbey of the X-men, and hey, in New York you could be a new man, if Lin Manuel Miranda was to be believed. So he got a new place and hunkered down there. 

After a few months of trying to be one of the good guys, some of the hundreds of other supers that just so happened to live in the Big Apple took notice. Daredevil, the Punisher, and -

“Oh my God it’s Captain America.” 

“Deadpool, why are you here?” Black Widow demanded. Rogers gave a confused look between the two - obviously he hadn’t been given Wade’s wiki entry before now. This wasn’t a pre-arranged meeting, either. The Avengers happened to be in his neighborhood to deal with some sewer-dwelling, mutated mole-like creatures, and Wade was conveniently nearby and willing to help out.

“Mole men chewed through the electrical wires and now my power’s out,” Wade said, jutting his thumb behind him. “And I got bored.”

“No, I mean, why are you  _ in  _ New York? We can’t just let you kill whoever you want while we’re here,” the spy said, briefly turning around and shooting an approaching mole monster in the face with a ridiculously large gun. It slumped to the side, and she already had a brow quirked expectantly when she turned back again.

“First of all, I was  _ definitely  _ living here and killing people for like,  _ years  _ and this is the first time I’m hearing this from any of you. Secondly, I got out of the murder business! Maybe. I don’t know. It’s been a good two months though, trying really hard to be a good boy.” He winked.

Black Widow glared at him, unsure, or just plain disbelieving. “Is that true?” Wade shrugged.

“Yeah, wanted to try the hero thing out.” Before Black Widow could say anything else, an unseeing mole monster dug up through the pavement, blindly swatting at them. “Luckily that doesn’t apply to freaky monsters!” He shot the thing through its eye socket. “So… is this the part where we team up?” 

The Captain, who had been watching the exchange for the last minute, twisted his mouth, more in a thoughtful frown than the scowl Black Widow was sporting. “As long as you don’t harm any civilians and keep collateral damage to a minimum, we could use another pair of hands,” he said, before turning towards another sewer plate that was shaking expectantly. 

“Try not to swoon,” Black Widow advised him, walking by. 

“Too late,” he said.

Fighting alongside the Avengers - well, only half of them. Thor, Stark, and the Hulk weren’t around from what he could tell - was amazing, up to the point that one of the larger moles started stampeding towards a mother and her children as they were frantically trying to get into the safety of their apartment building. Wade managed to buy them time to run away - by getting crushed under the thing’s giant paw, claws tearing into his abdomen and, judging by the pain, coming out the other side. 

Captain America brained the thing on his shield, hauling the monster off of Wade before rushing to his side. 

“Oh my God, Deadpool,” he talked into an earpiece, demanding immediate medical attention. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have let you help us -”

“H-hey, no worries,” he choked out, “just give me like two hours.”

“Two hours? Your…” Cap glanced down before wincing and going back to Wade’s masked face. “Your insides are a bit, uh, squished, Deadpool.”

“Ooh, right, you didn’t get the Spark notes on me. Well, name’s Wade Winston Wilson, from Canada, super big fan by the way, even after some quack took some bastardized super soldier mutant serum and injected it into me to see what would happen.” 

Cap looked even more stricken than before. “So,  _ you’re  _ a super soldier?”

Wade shrugged. “More like a shitty mutant that got a dishonorable discharge. I was very,  _ very  _ good at my special forces job, but my real power is that I can’t die. From anything! And believe me, I’ve tried. So I’ll be fine. Go… do whatever else it is you need to do. I’ll be here.” 

“I -” Another tell-tale roar of a new mole monster echoed a block away. “I’ll be back. Stay there!” Wade watched Captain America sprint back into the fray, and sighed.

“Yeah, that’ll be easy. That mole totally crushed my spine. Super immobile.” So he waited.

Wade had a rule - he didn’t like to be pitied. Unless, of course, it could directly benefit him. So when Captain America returned after the fight, and gingerly picked up his still healing, still paralyzed form, and brought him back to Avengers Tower, he just sighed into those wonderfully jacked arms. And despite the protests of everyone who had heard of Deadpool - Widow, Hawkeye, some SHIELD agents who had also helped in the fight - Captain America insisted that if Deadpool was going to use his abilities for good, he should be given that chance. It wasn’t an Avengers membership card or anything, but it did mean that he wouldn’t get harassed for just existing while in costume - not as much, at least. And they now had his number on speed dial. 

Wade had a feeling Captain America felt responsible for every crackpot who tried to repeat whatever turned him into a Mr. November, even if his transformation was done with Wolvie’s blood in this case. Still, Cap was stupidly righteous, and even if that was the main reason for cutting Wade some slack, hey, gift horse, mouth, right? He’d take whatever tenuous connection with the Avengers he could get. 

 

\--

 

His meeting with Richard Conwell for ‘tomorrow evening’ - aka tonight - meant that he still had most of the afternoon to hang out with Peter. Which was maybe not the smartest choice he could be making, since their entire relationship was built on lies and was probably going to implode in on itself before the week was out, depending on if he could get Richard Conwell to sell out his business partners sooner rather than later. But hey, on the other hand, why not take what he could get? 

“It’s freezing today,” Peter said by way of greeting. Every day brought more leaves to the ground, dropping temperatures, and more Christmas decorations lining the shop windows. They walked through the park, like usual. Most of the seats were empty due to the weather.

“I tried sitting on a bench while I was waiting for you and I’m pretty sure part of my ass is still on the seat,” Wade said, plucking at the fingers of his gloves. It was too cold to go without them today, but he had the image inducers on underneath, making for an extra unpleasant sensation. 

Peter spared a glance at Wade’s backside. “I think you got most of it, still.”

“Thank God. Didn’t know how I’d pay the bills, otherwise.” Peter bit his lip to keep his smile to a minimum; his ears, cheeks, and the tips of his nose were already pinking up from the wind. “Can we please go somewhere warm?” 

“Don’t have to tell me twice, come on.” Peter grabbed his hand, holding it as they left the park and made their way further down the street. 

[Is he -]

{No.}

They paused at a street corner. While they waited for the light to change, Peter readjusted his grip; long fingers slipping between Wade’s gloved ones. He did it so casually, like it was completely normal - as if the two of them had been doing it forever. 

[Why isn’t he freaking out?]

{Can’t feel the image inducer through the gloves, moron.}

[No, I mean, why aren’t  _ we  _ freaking out?]

{No clue.}

Peter walked across the road and didn’t break away until they got into a particular coffee shop half a block down. The pair of them relaxed at the blast of heat that met them, and Peter, gaze clearly fixed on the bakery display, walked towards the counter. Wade flexed the fingers on his right hand before carefully sliding off the gloves and joining Peter in line. When they sat down at a table, Peter was intent on tearing a chocolate chip muffin into bite-sized pieces. He didn’t try to hold Wade’s hand again. 

Wade tried to keep his hands either around his coffee cup or shoved in his coat pockets, though, just in case. He watched the people milling around through the shop’s window, and Peter mirrored him, after he demolished that pastry in a surprisingly short amount of time. There was enough going on around them that neither rushed to speak. There were people clacking away on their laptops, groups crowded around tables, the whir of the espresso machine, the small bell above the door sounding as people came in and out. Peter sighed.

“What’s up, baby boy?” Wade asked, attention turned on the younger man immediately.

{Whipped.}

[I wish.]

“It’s nothing, just…” Peter frowned, before nodding ahead; Wade glanced over his shoulder, but didn’t notice anything out of place; some more college students had come in, was all. 

Wade turned back. “Do you know them?”

“They’re business students, Wade.”

“How can you tell?”

“They always look like they have their shit together,” Peter said, voice uncharacteristically full of contempt as he took a pull from his coffee cup. “wearing suits and big, fancy watches for no reason whatsoever. Like, it’s noon on a Tuesday. Where do you have to be?” 

They had, in fact, all been wearing suits - or some pencil skirt and blouse combo - and watches, along with matching, tan overcoats. 

“I never went to college - is there some age-old American animosity between STEM and business that I don’t know about?”

“See, that’s the thing,” Peter spread his hands out on the table. “Traditionally it’s art and STEM that hate each other, but as we’ve already established -”

Wade tipped his cup towards Peter, “You’re an art hoe.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Peter said dryly. “The point is, I’ve done art classes and more science and math and engineering classes than I can count - and they’re different, but they’re important. They maintain a balance in the universe. Business students take the STEM and the art kids’ work and make more money than any of us. And they look good while they do it. I hate them. All the other students should gang up on them, but we don’t.”

Wade leaned back in his seat. “You guys haven’t rallied yet.”

“Seized the means of production.”

“Overthrown the chains of capitalism.”

“Dragged them by their hair into the streets and -” Their conversation was interrupted - well, no, Peter cut himself off, partway through his sentence, sharply turning his head out the window. 

“What?” Wade asked, moving in his chair to try and see whatever had spooked the other man.

[Like a dog before a tornado or something.]

Wade was about to ask Peter if he was okay, when the screaming started up.

Not in the street, though. From inside the store. The aforementioned group of business students were standing by the cashier, one of the women was holding her phone up like a sacred text. Wade was close enough to see she had been scrolling through Twitter. 

“An alien ship just landed in Central Park!” The cafe immediately broke out into a flood of conversation as everyone else began checking their own phones to confirm if it was true or not. Patrons started clearing out a few seconds later; some going further away from the park and others headed right towards it. Wade was pretty sure he heard ‘Avengers’ thrown around a couple times as people passed their table. 

Wade started to stand. He definitely had some weapons and a spare suit at a storage facility near this adorable tea house off Columbus Avenue. He could probably make it into Grand Central before the super cool end of the movie fight scene happened, right? 

{What about Peter?}

[We can’t just leave him here, right? Are we allowed to do that?]

{Superhero leaving the love interest behind to fight something, without revealing their Big Secret to them? Sounds like a great way for Peter to get kidnapped.}

Wade made a motion to sit back down. Maybe he could sit this one out…?

“We should go,” Peter said. “I mean - I should go. Back to, uh, Queens. Where it’s safe.”

“I, really?” Peter nodded, getting up. Wade followed him. The streets were a little more crowded than usual as people tried to get to safety or get closer to the action. Wade couldn’t help the swell of relief that Peter immediately turned to head South. There was a subway station close by - he’d probably be fine. “Okay, um, I think I’m gonna head back to my place, too,” Wade said. “I’m sure it’ll be okay. Aliens always attack Manhattan.”

“Harlem is in Manhattan, Wade.”

“Pfft, try saying that to someone from the Garment District. Okay, um. Be safe? Text me when you get home?” Peter smiled.

“‘Course. You too. I’ll see you later.” He was turning and walking away, hand still stuck in the air as he waved. “Good luck!” 

Wade let out a breath. He wanted to stay, or make sure Peter got home safely, but - he heard the distant sound of an explosion, and sighed. “Alright, fine. Maximum effort,” he muttered to himself, jogging uptown.

 

-

 

He stole a courier’s bike after two blocks, but that wasn’t even grand theft auto, as far as crimes went, so he was sure it was fine. He was suited up and pushing past a group of interested civilians crowded around the edge of the park, a barricade of police officers holding them back. “‘Scuse me - totally legit superhero, coming through!” he said, squeezing through the crowd and vaulting over the iron gate, running further into the park. He dashed past a collection of weird, alien-looking robot corpses as he went.

“I’m here!” he said, still out of breath. Captain America saw him and gave him a quick nod. He clutched his heart with unbridled joy, practically skipping over to the other man. “So how’s it going? Did you miss me?”

“Like a rash,” he heard from above him. He glanced up and saw Hawkeye situated in a tree. He promptly jumped down and joined the group.

[Do heroes just stand around on tall things so they can make a cool entrance?]

{If they’re even sort of like us, then yeah.}

“A spaceship landed further in. Stark found out they’re robots and is trying to get some sort of EMP device out there to deal with them. Hawkeye, Widow, and I are making sure the perimeter is clear and none of them get out into the rest of the city.”

“How many are there?”

“A lot, the spaceship is turning more into a clown car and we’re not even in the thick of it,” Hawkeye muttered, yanking his arrows out of a few felled robots nearby. “I was gonna tell Cap that we should probably -”

“Hey guys, I’m dropping in.” Wade had to try very, very hard to contain a squeal when Spider-man swung into view, flipping as he fell to the ground and landing on his feet like the most graceful of spider-cats.

[I think there is an actual Spider-Cat.]

{Was that like a Spider Ham scenario, or…?}

[Who made that cat a Spider-man costume, anyway?] 

Wade dragged himself back to the conversation. Hawkeye gave Spider-man the same brief recap before adding, “maybe you and Wilson can head into the fray. I still saw a lot left.” Wade clapped his hands together before hip-checking Hawkeye out of the way so he could stand right next to Spidey.

“Pick me, pick me!”

“Are there any other Wilsons around?” Spider-man asked. “Alright, let’s go.” 

“Good luck,” Hawkeye said, already climbing up a tree to get to a higher vantage point. 

Wade was about to ask if he could get a piggy back ride, but this time the hero just wrapped an arm around Wade’s waist and shot a web up into one of the trees, the lack of leaves making it easy to see where to shoot. They were up in the air, and Wade wasted no time in wrapping his own arm tight around Spider-man’s mega snatched waist. “You’re kinda close to the merchandise, Pool. I can definitely drop you.”

“You started it!” 

Spider-man just sighed. “They’re over there.” He shot another web and swung wide. “Okay, I’m dropping you in, meet you in a second.” 

“But I didn’t even get to the merchandise yet!” Spidey dropped him anyway, and Wade had his swords drawn and aimed at two amphibian-looking, bipedal alien robots before he hit the ground. Their flesh and metal skeleton gave way surprisingly easy, when he was falling towards them at sixty miles an hour. “Do we know why these guys are here?” he asked, decapitating another pair of frogmen that tried to get too close. “I kinda feel bad -” Shot one in the chest with a round of ammunition, “- about slaughtering them -” He threw one of his kantanas through another’s head, getting a second one skewered at the same time, “- if I don’t even know -” With his hand free, he pulled a grenade off his belt, thumb pulling out the pin and lobbing it at a group crowding below Iron Man, “-what they did!” The grenade exploded, sending aliens flying in a spray of oil, bolts, and body parts, a few of them hitting Stark’s suit. 

“I think you’re doing a really good job of killing them regardless,” Spider-man said, tugging on the webs that had lassoed a dozen or so of the things together to make sure it stuck. 

Wade got his sword out of the alien-robot heads, shook off the black oil, and put them both back in their holsters. “I’m a professional, Webs. And violent alien-robots on our turf is fair game; gotta take what I can get.” 

“I guess.” 

“Spider-man, Deadpool!” Iron Man flew over to them and landed with a squelch - the frozen earth wasn’t doing a great job at absorbing all that machine oil, apparently. “Nice of you to join us.” 

“You make it sound like we’re late to a meeting,” Spider-man said dryly.

“Yeah, some of us had to steal bikes to get here,” Wade grumbled. 

“Any idea what these guys came here for?” 

“I got a recording of their apparent leader saying something before sending these guys out. JARVIS managed to run it through an alien language database. It’s something about returning a… weapon of some sort.”

“Anything in particular? A gun, a sword? Something that we wouldn’t even think of as a weapon?” Spider-man asked.

“I think they said the name, but it couldn’t be translated. Too specific.” 

“Maybe we can try to talk to whoever’s commanding these guys?” Spider-man suggested. He stepped back as Stark lined up a repulsor blast to a group of approaching robots.

“I still need  five minutes and I can drop an EMP on these guys and have enough clearance to get away before it affects me. So if you two wanna storm the castle, be my guest.” Spider-man looked over at Wade.

“Sure, let’s go find the princess.” Iron Man provided cover fire for them, and Spider-man shot two webs against the door of the spaceship. He pulled, boots making tracks in the ground below him, and the metal groaned in protest before it finally gave way and ripped open. Spider-man hopped inside, way too casual about the fact that he ripped a space ship’s door clean off. 

[Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ ]

{We always forget how strong he is.}

[He could lift us over his head and rip us in half.]

{Like a twig.}

[Maybe he’d even kiss it better after.]

{Probably better bedside manner than the Juggernaut.}

“Are you coming, Deadpool?” Spider-man asked.

“ _ Yes -  _ I mean probably. I mean - definitely. I mean, uh, give me a hand?” He jogged over to the opening and held up a hand, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Spider-man let out a put upon sigh, but took his hand and hauled him up, still not breaking a sweat, of course.

{He has long fingers.}

[Probably not as into holding on as Peter was.]

They crept down the hall of the ship together. It looked like all the robots were outside, none left to guard whoever was left. That either meant their apparent leader was totally confident in their minions’ abilities to do whatever it was they wanted to do, or -

“Deadpool!” Spider-man hissed, ducking a hard left. Wade tried to copy it, but ended up getting hit as said leader dropped from the ceiling, using her momentum to kick Wade across the floor. He rolled over, groaning. 

_ Or,  _ she could handle a threat herself. Great. Spider-man wasted no time in moving the narrative along, circling her warily. “Who are you?” he asked, “why did you come here?” She was dressed in a black space suit. Which was about the same as a tactical suit but, you know, for space. It had lines of glowing pink along the fabric, as though they were filled with fluid instead of a way to just spruce up her look. Her skin was as pale as snow, veins showing through her nearly translucent skin. She also had a few - no, more than a few - weapons strapped to her person. At Spider-man’s question, she tilted her head and tapped at her - well it looked like she was touching her impressively spiky hairdo, but it was probably a translator earpiece. 

[Gritty, alien Gwenpool?]

{Huh.} 

“I am Harvester. An intergalactic bounty hunter. And you are?”

“Spider-man and Deadpool. Hero and, uh,” He glanced back at Deadpool, the eyes of his mask visibly squinting in consideration. “Anti-hero doing a twelve step program.”

[Eh, good enough.]

{Honestly surprised he didn’t hit us with an ‘it’s complicated’.}

Spider-man continued being a civil talker while Wade stood up, feeling to make sure his kidneys were still in the right spot. “Who are you hunting?”

“No one, at the moment. Something of mine was stolen from me. I want it back. It was activated here on Earth, somewhere nearby.” She tapped something on her wrist and showed it to the hero. Wade couldn’t see from the angle, but it looked like a holographic map of the city, presumably with the location of her destroyer of worlds weapon, or whatever. “Hm. It’s been moving towards us.” She walked forward, past Spider-man, closer to Wade. 

“We can probably help you get this, uh, weapon back. If you call off your robot army and promise it’s not a weapon of mass destruction and you leave right after?” 

Wade resisted rolling his eyes. “Spidey, this is why all your villains come back. You’re too nice.” 

Harvester stopped walking, the map on her wrist disappearing. 

Her eyes were all black, no pupil or iris that could be distinguished. But Wade still knew that she was staring straight at him. 

“Those are reasonable requests. I will be happy to do so.”

“Hah! There, see?” Spider-man gloated, masked face visible over the alien’s shoulder.

“One more thing. Can I murder the man that stole from me?” 

“Oh, um. No?” Spider-man’s voice went up an octave before turning into a full-on shout when Harvester reached forward and slammed Wade into the wall, enough to dent the metal beneath him this time. She pulled out a blade, aiming to slit Wade’s throat it looked like, but Wade got his arms up and held the knife at bay long enough for him to push her away. He jumped over to Spider-man’s side.

“She said her name is Harvester?” Wade stage-whispered to Spidey. 

“I don’t think it’s an exact translation,” the hero stage-whispered back.

“Oh no, it is. Give me back my gun and I’ll make this painless, Deadpool.”

“What are you even talking about?” Wade asked, as soon as Spider-man turned to him and hissed out, “I can’t believe  _ you’re  _ the reason we’re getting invaded right now.” 

“Give it to me! I know you have it!” She leapt forward, hitting a button on the hilt of her oversized knife; it now looked like it was pulsing with electricity. They both managed to duck. Spider-man was adjusting his web shooters, sprawling to the floor as Harvester got to him in the close quarters. He got a nasty looking shock and stab from it, flinching back as she landed the blow to his side. 

“Ow! That really stings!” Spider-man complained. He shot out a web - Wade was about to protest, pretty sure the electricity would carry - but the hero caught and pulled the knife to him, tossing it away. “Good thing one of my most annoying recurring villains is named Electro, huh?” 

“Rubber insulated webs?” Wade asked, narrowly dodging a kick to the head as Harvester jumped into the rafters of the ship. 

“More complicated than that, but yeah. The insulation part was really hard to figure out, I mean, the webs are so small, so how can you - that is a  _ ray gun _ ! Calm down!” Spider-man’s adorable science tirade was cut short as he too jumped into the rafters of the ship, only to avoid Harvester’s shots. She was more preoccupied with shooting at Wade, anyway, who was left to run through the narrow halls and tight corners, zig-zagging and trying not to get discouraged when he felt a hole burn through his suit and skin, coming out the other side. “Hey, hate to like, negotiate with space terrorists or whatever,” Spider-man said, crawling along the wall and keeping up with Wade’s pace from there, “but maybe you can pretend to let her kill you and she’ll leave.” 

“Treating my temporary death like the answer to all our problems, huh? ...Why didn’t I think of that? Really, though - that’s a super me thing to do.” 

“That’s why I suggested it.” 

Wade patted his suit for another grenade or maybe a smoke bomb to buy them some time, only to pull out the small gun that Lkrotholisth had sold to him. Harvester let out an angry cry, jumping from the rafters and lunging for the gun. 

“That’s mine!” she screamed. Wade skidded back, and realized that the gun and her suit had the same color palette. 

“Ohh, so that’s why it lit up when I shot it.”

“Deadpool!” Spider-man shouted, disappointment evident in his voice.

“I’ll kill you!” Harvester shouted, bloodlust evident in hers.

“Wait wait wait - I swear I didn’t steal it, I bought it off some guy that did!” he said.

“Liar.” Nevertheless, Harvester paused, though her weapon was still raised at Wade.

“An alien merchant named Lkrotholisth, picked it up yesterday, tried it out, and it got all glowy. I thought it meant low battery since I couldn’t fire anymore after that. I swear if I knew it was something important to you, I wouldn’t have taken it! I know what it's like to have a favorite weapon. My katanas are like my babies you know, I mean,” he chuckled, “if anyone stole those, I’d probably track them to the end of the known universe and skin them alive.” 

“ _ Wade _ ,” Spider-man reprimanded again, his voice dipped into an uncharacteristic growl, making him sound like someone’s angry dad who was about to dish out some serious punishment.

[Hm…]

{Oh no, we  _ cannot  _ unpack that right now.}

“Fine. If you give me the gun I’ll be on my way.” Harvester held out her hand. Wade squinted, glancing at the gun.

“Uhh, okay, like, I’d  _ love  _ to do that, but this gun kind of, uh, alters living DNA and turns your body into mush. Which sounds pretty bad, like even I might not survive that type of bad. So that’s pretty destructive, right Webs?” He glanced at the man. “My superhero manual didn’t cover this. So I’d like to phone a friend - aka you - should I give it back to her?”

“Wh - no!” He turned to Harvester. “Why do you even  _ need  _ a weapon like that?”

“Why not?” She fired her gun at the two of them - landing a glancing blow on Wade's shoulder just as Spider-man webbed her feet to the floor, keeping her stuck there. They both ran towards the ship's entrance.

“Okay, so that could have gone  _ be-tter! _ ” Wade said, stumbling when a low rumbling sounded out, a pulsing a wave of destruction travelling outwards. The lights in the ship went down. “Stark must’ve put out that EMP blast.” They both stiffened at Harvester’s angry shriek further inside the ship, followed by her frantic footsteps. Wade took off towards the exit again, Spider-man following. “So, what’s the game plan?”

“Uh,” Spider-man jumped from one wall to the next to dodge a lazer blast. “Outsource our problems?” His voice warbled in a strange way as he spoke. 

“Sounds good!” They both jumped out of the ship, rolling onto the oil-slick grass and immediately running again, dodging the downed army of robots, Harvester hot on their heels. 

“So, she’s mad at you -” Another shot left a tree trunk black and smoldering. 

“I think she’s mad at both of us,” Wade managed.

“Toss me the gun,” Spider-man said, voice threading higher now with the approaching threat. “You distract her while I get some of the team in.” For a split second, Wade wanted to argue. He needed the gun to get the Richard Conwell guy. But - eh, it was a sting operation; the guy would hopefully be captured before he got his hands on the weapon. He shrugged and tossed it over, and the two of them split off in separate directions. 

Harvester paused, for a brief moment, until she was struck in the shoulder by one of Wade’s knives. 

“That’s my boot knife!” he shouted at her. “So I’d get checked for athlete’s foot after this.” Harvester picked her mark, and he went back to running. 

Unfortunately, with only one target to focus on, Harvester got a lot better with her aim, and Wade had already run out of bullets - his weapons in storage weren’t as well stocked as he remembered. He only had his swords which, last time he checked, weren’t that great at deflecting deadly lazers. 

He pushed onward, into another clearing of the park, panting as he looked around and tried to figure out which direction to move in. It was quiet for now, and he carefully slid one of his swords from its holster, waiting. 

{It’s quiet… too quiet.}

[Times like this, it’d be nice to have that spidey-sense.]

He flinched as the bench in front of him cracked in two, its wood jagged and smoking.

Wade glanced down at the sizable hole in his stomach. “Oh for the love of -”

Harvester kicked Wade’s back, grabbing his forearm and pulling until it broke with a sickening  _ crack!  _ His knees were kicked out next, and he fell to the ground. Harvester took the katana from Wade’s trembling fingers. 

“Hmm… I can sense a type of force around this - charged steel, is it not?” The bounty hunter ran her fingers over the blade. “Not a bad weapon for an Earth-bound creature.”

“No, you can’t... it was forged by Hattori Hanzo in the mountains of Okinawa,” Wade rasped out, rolling onto the side that didn’t have the shattered humerus. “I need it to... kill David Carradine.”

She grinned at him. “It’s precious, then? I remember you saying that. Maybe I should keep it as a little souvenir.”

“Yeah, over my permanently dead body.” Harvester sniffed, nose wrinkling in disgust.

“You’re right. This thing is still just a primitive tool. You can have it back.”

“Aw, thanks ma-AUGH!” Harvester returned his precious Bea by ramming it through his skull. It hit that amazingly lucky - or just amazingly awful - section of his brain that didn’t kill him upon impact, but he was too incapacitated to actually tear the blade out of his head, leaving him stuck on the oil-slick grass like a broken doll. 

He was faintly aware of Harvester waltzing away, only to be completely blasted by one of Iron Man’s repulsors. Her body shot up from the explosion, and then she was swept higher into the air and flung far away, as though by an invisible force. 

A moment later, Spider-man jumped down from wherever he had been hiding… probably a cloud high up in heaven. He was at Wade’s side immediately, the eyes of his mask widening as he got closer. Despite the traumatic brain injury, Wade managed to tilt his head enough to look up at him. 

In the distance, a faint string orchestra began to play, romantic and dreamy, before giving way to a mellow acoustic guitar, and an accompanying smooth, smoky voice… 

_ Even though you tell me you love me, I’m afraid that you just love my disguise. Taste my fears and light your candle to my raging fire, your dirty desire… _

Spider-man carefully lifted Wade up, holding him in his arms. He couldn’t feel the cracked bones in his arm anymore, or the hole in his gut, pain receptors completely gutted, and Wade sighed, placing his hand reverently on the hero’s chest, resting his head on Spider-man’s shoulder. It felt good, to be held like this.

_...But don’t judge me, I know I got issues but they drown when I kiss you. Don’t, don’t judge me. Baptize me with ocean, recognize my devotion… _

It was over to soon, and Spider-man maneuvered him so he was back on wobbly feet. He started to move his hands again, to express everything - his affection, his worries, doubts, and most importantly his love for the hero before him, but already Spider-man was reaching a hand towards his head. To - caress him? Bring him closer? To kiss him?

_...What if I touched you right th- _

Spider-man pulled the sword out of his head with a hauntingly slick slide. The music and glitzy 70’s movie lighting immediately cut out as his brain knit itself back together. He frantically shook his head, a full body shiver running through him. He could immediately tell Spider-man was looking at the blood and brain-matter encrusted blade with unbridled disgust.

“Uh. I’ll just. Take that.” Wade gingerly took back his sword, examining it in the light before wiping it off on the thigh of his suit. He faintly heard Spider-man gag behind his mask. He slipped it back into the holster on his back. “You, uh, really helped me out there, Webs. Harvester was a dick, not like alien Gwenpool  _ at all _ . Where’d you fling her? Neverland?”

“Tony caught her. Don’t ask me what he’s doing, probably involves putting her in a prison somewhere. I think all the robots got taken out by that EMP blast, too. Definitely downed the equipment in my mask for a few minutes before the failsafe kicked in.” He tapped at one of the lenses of his mask. “I just can’t believe this all happened because of  _ you. _ ”

Gritting his teeth, he twisted his broken arm so it was set the right way, resisting the urge to shake it out. Spider-man shuttered. “Hey, it was because of me  _ this time.  _ I didn’t know that gun was stolen!”

“Why’d you get it in the first place? And... do you like, need a sling for that?" He pointed. "I could probably web you up one."

"Nah, I just walk it off. A clean break like this probably takes ten minutes." 

"Good to know." 

"As for that cosmic horror plot device? Well I didn’t exactly add you on Grindr yet so I couldn’t let you know, but I think I’m getting closer to figuring out the SI leak.” Spider-man stilled. “One of my guys ran into some kid trying to trade the tech for guns, so I figured I could lure him out if I had something he wanted.” 

“...Really?” 

Wade took out his phone. He kept it in a very well insulated pouch, so it was still intact. He swiped into it. “Yeah, got a name and number and everything. I think he’s just the middle man, but I can probably work my way up from there.” He showed Spidey the message thread. “So can I have that gun back, pretty please? It doesn’t even work anymore anyway. Probably needs to get charged and who  _ knows  _ what sort of cables they use when you’re travelling intergalactically. Even if he somehow got his hands on it, it’s useless.”

“On one condition: Can I come with you? To meet this guy? I think I want to ask him a few questions myself.” 

Wade blinked. “Uh, yeah, sure. We can do a good cop bad cop thing, right?” 

“Yeah, sounds good. Here.” ‘Spider-man shoved his hand into the side of his pants - exposing a strip of skin as he did so - and pulled the gun out.

Wade stared at the weapon. “I know I am the last person who should ask this question, but where… Where were you hiding that?” 

“My utility belt.”

Wade glanced doubtfully at Spidey’s costume, but he did take the gun. “You do  _ not  _ have a utility belt.”

“Yes I do.” Spider-man tugged at a tight band of fabric that was the same pattern as the shirt and pants of his suit, but was indeed a separate part of the outfit. Wade always thought the whole costume was one piece, but it looked like the belt just maintained that perfect illusion. Spider-man let go of the belt and it snapped back into place. “I really only keep extra web cartridges in it, so the pockets are small and it all lays flat.” He shrugged. “Guess you never noticed?”

“It looks like part of a jockstrap, actually.”

“Pfft. You can’t wear underwear in a suit like this.” 

“Holy shit,” Wade said softly, but with feeling. He glanced slightly lower. “What about a cup?”

“Actually -”

“Are you guys done with the whole ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ thing?” Hawkeye asked. “We don’t want to offend Cap’s delicate constitution.”

“I was in the army, Barton. I am very familiar with that game, for better or worse,” Captain America said dryly. Black Widow had an amused twist to her mouth.

“Oh God,” Spider-man groaned, quickly putting his head in his hands. 

Hawkeye and Widow had matching amused expressions, but Cap breezed on past that topic, walking up to him and Spidey.  “Anyway - good work you two. Iron Man is taking that bounty hunter somewhere secure. SHIELD agents will worry about cleanup.”

“News travels fast,” Spider-man muttered, readjusting his shirt. 

Black Widow tapped her ear. “Headsets, actually.” 

“Aw man, you know we’re missing out on that Avenger brand hot-gos,” Wade complained. He nodded at Hawkeye. “What about  _ you? _ ”

“Natasha and I have a psychic link, I learn everything I need to know through her.” Black Widow, standing just behind the archer, signed out a subtle ‘ _ more comfortable hearing aids’.  _ Hawkeye paused, and looked over his shoulder to glare at her. Maybe the psychic link wasn’t so far fetched, either. “So, we done here? I got machine oil in my hair and the fumes are giving me a headache.”

“Me too,” Captain America took off his cowl - revealing his perfectly maintained blond hair, not a hint of getting dented by the hood on his head. He ran a hand through his locks.

“Me three,” Wade managed. “So I guess we can all head home? And break! Good job team.”

“Deadpool, wait.” Captain America had that distinct ‘I fought Nazis and have valuable life lessons to impart upon you, also I can punch very, very hard’ tone of voice, leaving Wade little choice but to wait. “Did Spider-man give you a gun?”

“He was just borrowing it!” 

“It looked pretty futuristic,” Black Widow said. “Was that the weapon Harvester was after?”

“Uh… no?” The three Avengers stared at him. “I  _ paid  _ for it,” he added. 

“It was stolen,” she argued.

“From a bounty hunter.”

“Which is a step above a mercenary,” she added. “Which is what  _ you  _ are. What do you need with it?” 

“Spidey and I have a hot date involving an alien tool and a marketing major, and maybe some street vendor food, okay? It’s important.” 

“I bet,” Hawkeye said. 

“Guys,” Spider-man interrupted, “he told me about it. It doesn’t even work anymore - he just needs it for some… side project he’s doing.” 

“Spider-man, Deadpool, we all greatly appreciated your help here tonight, and everything else you two have done for the city,” Cap started. 

{He sounded very… consoling.}

[Oh, great.]

“Some more than others,” Hawkeye added. Cap ignored him.

“But even so, I can’t let either of you leave here with that thing. It was clearly a dangerous weapon to attract that bounty hunter, and has anyone properly studied it? How do we know it’s really out of commission? It could still be sending out a distress signal to a number of other aliens that want it as we speak.” Cap turned that all-American blue-eyed gaze to Wade, and held out his hand. “I’m sure we can arrange to get it back to you if you really need it, and you’re telling the truth about it not firing anymore.” 

{God, even Cap doesn’t trust us.}

[Well, he hates foreigners, right?]

{He hates murdering psychopaths, idiot. Why would he trust us? It’s not like we deserve a special sticker for not killing anyone for almost a year.}

[We totally should get a special sticker for that!]

Wade glanced at the Avengers, and as the seconds ticked by, he saw them getting tense. When he finally stuck his hand back into his pouch, he saw how Hawkeye flinched about the eyes; even Black Widow’s hands twitched. 

“...Here,” he said, putting the still glowing gun back in Cap’s hand. “You know, you just ruined what could have been a perfectly good story arc. Who doesn’t love chasing after glowy macguffins, right?” 

“Thank you. We’ll be in touch. Goodnight, Deadpool,” Cap said, perfunctory and polite, but not exactly friendly. He nodded at the other non-Avenger. “Spider-man.” The trio picked their way through the wreckage. 

“They have comms for their missions,” Wade said, after a pause. “I wonder what they say to each other. Do you think they talked about how amazing our team up was?”

“I think they just thought they caught me showing you my dick.” Spider-man kicked at a bit of wood from the bench that had splintered off. 

“There are worse things,” Wade said, patting Spider-man’s shoulder.

“Is there? What are they?” 

“Uh… being able to shove a fist through your stomach? Which I - oh, no it’s closing up now.” Spider-man sighed and started walking in the opposite direction of the Avengers, towards the edge of the park. “Thanks for trying to defend me back there. I thought Cap and I were  _ cool,  _ but I guess haters gonna hate hate hate hate hate, right?”

He heard Spider-man scoff up ahead. “That reference is out of date.”

“It’s a classic.”

“You can’t call Taylor Swift songs classic -”

“- but they never go out of style!” 

He got the distinct impression Spider-man was giving him a withering glare as he glanced back over his shoulder. “I’m not acknowledging that. I’m just saying that they haven’t aged into the cultural lexicon for long enough. Except for maybe  _ Fearless. _ That was a simpler time.” He aimed his foot at a detached robot arm in his path, punting it out of sight. “So, where is this meeting again?” 

“A tennis court in Riverside park, couple of blocks down from where we are. You still wanna come?” 

“Well you do need a ride, right? Let’s go.”

[So dreamy…]

{I think that 70s filter is coming back.}

Wade hurried after him. They reached the edge of the park a few minutes later. "How's your arm?" Spider-man asked. 

"Oh, uh." Wade carefully rotated his broken arm. It twinged a bit, maybe a hairline fracture worth of damage left. "It's mostly there."

"Mostly? Ugh, fine. You're not falling off of me on my watch." To Wade's utter surprise and delight, Spider-man grabbed him at the waist again and shot out a web, propelling them upwards as they flew and dipped through the city.

 

-

 

An hour and four chicken gyros later, Spider-man called it: “I don’t think he’s coming. And don’t say what you’re thinking.” 

[Damn it.]

{He knows us too well.}

“Fine. Maybe you’re right.” Wade checked his phone for the umpteenth time that night. Still nothing from fucking  _ Richard Conwell.  _ No response to his texts, either. He had a distinct feeling the guy had blocked his number, though he couldn’t be sure. “Wonder if he got a tip off as to who I was?” 

Spider-man shrugged. “Could be. Or the alien attack spooked him.”

“Please, I bet he was one of the guys trying to get into Central Park to watch the fight. True New Yorker style.” Wade knew he would have felt more irritated about the whole thing - his primary lead didn’t even show up, he was at a dead end once again - but those gyros were fucking delicious, and he had Spider-man to talk to for what would have otherwise been a mind numbingly boring stretch of time. They were currently on the roof of a small maintenance building overlooking the park. But they were close enough to the street that it had been easy to get there via the Spidey Express. Well, it looked easy, at least. Smooth sailing, a million twinkling lights and scurrying pedestrians and toy-sized cars as far the eye could see. 

“I’m sorry it didn’t pan out,” Spider-man offered. “I wanted to know more about those guys, too.” 

“Have you seen anything else like that tech around since last time?” Spider-man kicked his feet.

“...Maybe. Couldn’t confirm it. Looked like some new supers in lower Manhattan. Caught one of them doing parkour tricks to rescue a kid’s frisbee from a tree.”

“Seriously? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Like you said, we’re not matched on Grindr. And I was in the middle of fighting the Lizard at the time, so I didn’t have time to stop and ask him about it,” he managed. “He definitely wasn’t helping  _ me _ , or anything, but no one ever really helps me anyway.” He paused. “Plus he seemed like he was doing good. I don’t know if that was a lead or not. Didn’t want to waste your time.” 

“Oh. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if you turned into a time waster,” Wade leered, even though part of his brain was churning at the thought. So much so it took him a few minutes to realize Spidey hadn’t even responded to him; he was looking past Wade, over at the city lights across the river in New Jersey.

[Probably thinking about all the stuff he could be doing instead of waiting around with you.]

{You should thank him for wasting  _ his  _ time.}

“Sorry I embarrassed you in front of your super friends,” Wade murmured, squishing up the foil their gyros had come in till it formed a tight ball. “Should’ve said that before. Kind of thought I was making more headway in the hero department, if I’m being honest.” 

“They’re not my friends,” Spider-man said. The words seemed to surprise them both. “And you  _ are  _ doing better, Deadpool,” he added, after another uncharacteristic lull in the conversation. Spider-man was still looking at the city lights, head on his drawn up knees. Wade wondered, not for the first time, what sort of expression the hero had on his face - whatever it looked like. Pensive? Sad? A blank, zoned out stare? 

[Is he even looking at New Jersey?]

“I’m just not really getting the warm and fuzzies from them,” Wade carried on, unable to let the train of thought go. “I feel like I’m kind of where I was with them from almost a year ago. Shit, I’m even doing this private mission for Stark and he’s probably the least happy to see me out of all of them. I mean, no skin off my back about that but, still. Cap and the rest of them are just like, ‘you’re okay, over there, far away from us.’” Wade made a shooing motion with his hand. “The only time any Avenger kind of wanted me around was when I first ran into Captain America, before anyone told him who I was. Now that illusion is shattered, and we’re back to square one.”

Spider-man huffed. “You can’t sit with us,” he said in a high-pitched, nasally voice. 

“Actually, Megan, I can’t sit anywhere, I’ve got -” Spidey shoved his shoulder, already laughing. Wade smiled to himself, not bothering to finish the quote. His smile dimmed. “There are like,  _ so  _ many heroes in New York.”

“There are,” Spider-man agreed.

“How do you do it? How do you stick out?”

“Stick out?” 

“Yeah, you know, product differentiation,  _ branding _ . I mean, I’m pretty sure most of the people who buy my merch are angsty teenagers and try-hard college students, and you have the eight year old market cornered. Other than that? Maybe I should go. New York is too saturated. What about Chicago? It’s the murder capital of the country this year, I think. Eh, it’s always a tie between here and there.”

“It’s not about the attention, Deadpool,” Spider-man admonished, tone going serious. 

“Maybe not for  _ you.  _ I need some external motivation, here!” 

“That’s not very heroic, DP, I gotta say. I thought you wanted to be a hero - to make a difference.” 

“I do! But it’s human though, right? We choose to do what we do and we change things about ourselves so people will like us.”

“You sound like the antithesis of every after school special ever.” Wade shrugged. “And I don’t think you’ve ever done anything a particular way so that I would like you,” Spider-man said. “In fact, I’m pretty sure you do things to intentionally annoy me, and everyone, actually. If being irritating is your current method of branding, you might wanna branch out. Doesn’t seem very sellable to me.” 

Wade let out a dry laugh, tossing the ball of foil off the roof. “That’s a really nice way to say that you hate me, Webs.”

Spider-man seemed to have predicted Wade’s move, and had a web shot out before Wade could register it, picking up the litter before it hit the ground. He twisted the uneven silver sphere in his hands, watching the dark shadow of the tennis courts below them. “I don’t hate you,” he said, voice quiet.

“Well, okay, you’re Spider-man, I guess you can’t hate anyone.”

“No, no I definitely can. I definitely  _ do  _ hate people.” He tossed the ball of foil. Wade watched as it flew in an arc and landed in a small trash can on the far side of the tennis court. “But not you Wade. Believe me, I’ve tried, but I can’t bring myself to actually get there.” 

“Is it because you’re in love with me?” he said, gasping and putting his hands to his mouth. “Oh, Spider-man -!”

“I’m not in love with you,” the other grumbled, standing up. He stretched, muscles groaning and bones popping. He shook out one of his legs and started moving again. Wade followed with his eyes, still seated where he was. Spider-man spent half a minute being restless, pacing. Then the hero looked over at him. “I think we have a lot in common, you and I.” 

“Is it the spandex?” Wade asked.

“Good taste in costumes?” Spider-man joked back. “You did steal my design, after all.”

“Steal is a harsh, if mostly accurate word. Highest form of flattery, after all.” 

The hero huffed. “Right.” He jumped onto a ventilation unit on one end of the roof and crouched down. He seemed to have abandoned his plan of scolding Wade, though he was quite literally looking down at him. “Do you ever get the feeling like you’re on the outside, looking in on things?”

“Trying to turn this into a Simple Plan song, Spidey?”

“ _ No,  _ I’m just saying - do you ever think - the Avengers finally told us they’re kind of, tangentially, maybe cool with us being heroes near them. Well, me first, then you - but I still feel...” He tapped his fingers on his knees. “A while ago they offered me a place in their roster, but I just… couldn’t do it. I thought the fact that they offered meant we had some sort of relationship, but after that… even though it’s been two years since then, I still feel like I’m a stranger they barely trust. Some dangerous factor they can’t control.” 

“Oh.” Wade frowned. “I mean we’re not exactly getting invited to Tony Stark’s Christmas party, but -”

“But that’s exactly it. Coworkers only. That’s all they see us as. Not even, really. Freelancers. Underpaid temps. I feel like I’m always being held at arm’s length.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Wade asked. “Don’t want anyone cramping your style?” X-Force had been fun, but he had been running the team. Also, all of the team was dead except for Doms, so, that was kind of a moot point. 

“I guess,” Spider-man said, shrugging.

“Maybe it’s the secret identity thing,” Wade offered. “Not that I’m judging you or anything! But everyone knows who Iron Man is, and Captain America, and they might not  _ know  _ all of Black Widow’s secrets but they know what she looks like, and stuff.”

“They know who you are,” Spider-man argued.

Wade scoffed, waving a hand. “Please. As if I know who I am more than ten percent of the time. The Avengers are a way to go legit, sure, but I’m not gonna pretend to create a  _ family  _ with them.” He frowned. “I don’t think I’m really meant to have one.”

Spider-man let out a small, choked noise. “I don’t think I’m meant to have one, either.” 

“Huh. Always figured you wore that mask to protect someone.”

“I _do._ __ I mean, partially. But I don’t have - much of that left, anymore.”

Wade swallowed. He kicked his feet, twisted the arm that had long since healed over. “I’m sorry. I know - know how that feels.” 

Spider-man nodded. He put an elbow on one of his knees - he had unbelievably good balance, it wasn’t fair - and rested his chin on his fist. “So the humor’s a coping mechanism, too, right?”

[Oh thank God]

{It was getting _serious_ over here.}

“Like you even need to ask? But also I am genuinely hilarious. All the time. Always.”

Spider-man chuckled, standing up. “Of course. So am I. Obviously.” He walked to the corner of the building, closer to Wade. 

“I am! Have you seen our comedic timing? It’s like a  _ Brooklyn 99 _ episode. I’m Jake. Ooh, or Rosa. Yeah, definitely Rosa.”

“I don’t know if you’re cool enough to be Rosa,” Spider-man shot back, before stilling. “Wait, I think I’m Amy.” 

“You definitely are. Do you like the fresh smell of a new binder?” 

“I don’t know, have you secretly been in love with me since we met?” he said, voice lilting as he teased him.

“Um.” 

[He’s onto us!]

{What do you mean onto us? Like we kept it a secret?!}

“Bye, Wade,” Spider-man gave him a quick salute and he was gone, shooting off a web and jumping off the building. For a split second, Wade was sure he’d hear a crash, but like every time he saw the hero leave, the web connected. Spider-man flung himself towards a street light, swinging around the pole and vaulting himself high up into the air, before another web pulled him back towards the city, red and blue disappearing from sight. It never got boring to watch; one part of Wade’s mind convinced that  _ this  _ time, the web wouldn’t make it, and that graceful form would fail to appear again, couldn’t manage that effortless act of travelling through the air in an endless split of flying and falling. 

But so far, every time, Wade was proven wrong.

“Yes?” he answered, and even though he didn’t have an audience anymore, his vocal cords were still struggling not to crack because of how high he went with that one word. “...At least since the season one finale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there's a lot of references here, but I'll just say - the scenes in the Deadpool movies where Wade gets some weapon through his head and his vision gets all ~romantic~ is absolutely hilarious and therefore I had to write a spideypool version. I know there's plenty of fun 80s ballads to pick but I went with something by Janelle Monae because the lyrics of this song always struck me as very apropos to super heroes getting involved. 
> 
> Also, Peter is allowed to say that stuff about business students because I'm currently getting a master's in digital marketing and it is prime suffering time for me at the moment. Which is also why this chapter is so long - school/clients/projects are demanding a lot of my attention at the moment, so I am going on a short hiatus and I wanted to give you guys something decent till I'm back! I'm aiming for just skipping next week's update and delivering chapter six on the 19th. I love this fic and seeing everyone's comments on it really makes my day, so this is just a short break (unless something goes terribly, terribly wrong of course lol). 
> 
> See you guys soon!


	6. The Notebook

“Weas, buddy, long time no see,” Wade said, bounding into the guy’s back office. Weasel had a few terminals set up on a desk, among the usual brik-a-brak that littered the space; posters and maps and papers on the walls, guns and crates of ammo mixed in with bottles of alcohol and glasses for the bar, a myriad of cleaning supplies, and a few cups of what may have once contained coffee. He took off the strap holstering his katanas and hung it up on the designated hook by the door - it wasn’t comfortable to sit with those things on.

“I’ve been texting you all night - where the fuck were you?” The man in question went back to typing, and Wade rounded the makeshift desk to see what he was looking at.

“Uh, alien robots attacked Central Park, had to do some floor work on that. Then Spider-man and I had a rooftop date because that stupid wannabe instagram entrepreneur didn’t show.”  

“Yeah, and what about after?”

“Beauty sleep?” Weasel grunted. “And breakfast.”

“It’s one in the afternoon.”

“Brunch. Whatever.” Wade dragged a metal chair across the floor to pull up besides Weasel. He plopped down with a sigh. “What do you have for me?” 

“Pretty much anything that’s been uploaded onto an SI server, ever.” Weasel moved his chair to the side to make room for Wade. The multiple monitors had different things to observe; security cam feeds and digital time sheets of people entering and exiting areas of the building. 

“What did you find?”

“About twenty ongoing affairs, way too many people looking at porn during the work day, even more playing video games, and a metric shit ton of pettiness about who is CC-ing who on emails. More importantly…” Weasel clicked on the program showing a timesheet. “I was able to find Peter Parker on here. Employee ID 12683. He works in lab B on floor 62, but when I actually went into the security database and searched for his ID…” He clicked onto another program and scrolled through a long list numbers, “he’s also been in lab 62-A, all the labs on floor 63, 64, 71, and 82,  _ and  _ the break rooms on the 63rd and 65th floor.” Weasel tapped at the screen showing various emails. “I think that’s just for the snack selection, though. Lots of free doughnuts and people stealing lunches up there.”  

“He’s only supposed to have clearance to the 62-B lab,” Wade said, ignoring Weasel’s last comment. He recalled the conversation Peter had with that I.T. guy, David. He knew then that he had been hooking Peter up any time he needed a new ID card, but that seemed to imply the IT department had a lot of power to influence where people could travel within the building - moreover, that Peter wasn’t above abusing that. “What are those labs for?”

“Uh…” Weasel went to another program, opening up an employee directory and scrolling through it for a while. “Biomedical engineering with emphasis on the bio, biomedical engineering with emphasis on the medical, biomedical engineering with emphasis on the engineering, and,” He scrolled a bit more. “Textile engineering.”

“Fuck.”

“And floor 82 is nanotech.”

_ “Fuck!”  _

“Does this make him guilty?”

“It sure as hell doesn’t make him innocent. Okay.” He took a breath. Maybe there was an explanation for this he wasn’t seeing. “Go back to the time sheets. What about that?” 

“See, that’s the thing, they’re… all over the place. It shows Peter being in his lab from nine to twelve thirty, then he goes to a break room or leaves the building for a lunch break. But he might also be in Lab 72 from twelve to one.” Weasel scrolled back and further through the slots to show him the inconsistencies. “He’s also here for way longer than twenty hours a week.” 

“Give me a run down of last week’s schedule.” 

“Um, okay.” More scrolling, clicking. “Monday he gets in at three in the afternoon and stays in his lab till seven, goes home. Tuesday he comes in at five, goes straight to lab 71 -"

Wade jerked his head up. “Last Tuesday?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“No, that’s not possible. He was with me during that time last week.” Wade leaned in towards the monitor. “That was when some jackasses attacked his school. He came to my place after.”

“Ew. I told you not to tell me if you shacked up him!”

Wade, for once, didn’t take the opportunity to annoy Weasel with a reply. “What about yesterday?”

“Yesterday? Uh… Says he went to lab 81 for forty minutes at three in the afternoon, and that’s it.”

“Any record of him entering or exiting the building?” Weasel squinted, flicking through the database.

“...No.” 

Wade sighed. Put his head in his hands. 

“I don’t want to say I told you so,” Weasel started. “But -”

“Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to think.” The other man snorted again, idly clicking around the screen. 

“Huh. The times when Peter goes into those upper level labs for a short period of time, he’s not entering or exiting the building at all.”

Wade scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Why hasn’t Stark mentioned this? Or anyone in HR?”

“This program is simple - it’s a glorified spreadsheet, pretty much. There is an AI that crawls it, but only  _ if  _ someone from HR has been notified to do a search, and you could probably cloak a particular ID number from getting pinged. I just combed through the raw data because  _ someone  _ wasn’t answering their phone.” 

“And I love you for it,” Wade said, tone humorless. “Do you have access to the security cameras?” 

“Yeah, I looked through the stuff that I could get. They don’t keep the footage long, though. Way too much storage for the million goddamn cameras they have in that place.” Weasel’s chair creaked. “Wade, I looked - it is him -”

“Let me see. Do you have last Tuesday? Show me.” 

Weasel went to the other monitor showing the security cam feed. It was in color, but the quality was only just adequate. Nevertheless, when Weasel skipped the time to ten after five, there was no mistaking the sight of Peter Parker - lab coat and all - walking amongst the beakers and microscopes and fellow scientists. He was smiling and talking with a few of them, before breaking off and slipping further into the lab. Weasel switched to a second camera, and now they could watch the back of the man as he surreptitiously inspected what looked to be some sort of material product that had been left under some heat lamps. After a moment, he turned to face the camera again. Technically, they didn’t see him  _ do  _ anything; the other scientists seemed used to his presence. 

“How much do you wanna bet that’s a model for those tactical suits,” Weasel said. “Took another sample, maybe?” 

“It just - can’t be Peter. I was physically with him almost all of Tuesday.” 

“So what are you thinking? Clone? Evil twin?” 

“He does have access to a lab developing nanotech,” Wade said slowly, with increasing dread. “I know the image inducer Stark gave me is composed of that.” 

“...Fuck. Really? So we have a look-alike situation on our hands now?”

“Looks like it.” Wade kept staring at the slightly blurred image of imposter-Peter’s face, but no revelation came from it. 

“Still doesn’t explain why Peter had access to all these labs in the first place.”

“He has someone who can hook him up.” Wade tilted his head. “Is there a security cam feed for the IT department?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?” 

“Get me a feed for two days ago, around two in the afternoon.” Weasel did as he was told, and now the screen was filled with the slightly grainy image of the entire bullpen of IT. Wade pointed at one corner. “Is there a camera closer to there?” 

“Yeah. Here.”

“Okay, now just fast forward it, let it run through the day.” The grainy image wasn’t improved by the sped up footage. People walked past in a blur, although almost immediately, Wade saw a few seconds worth of he and Peter standing by David’s desk. He saw his hand pick up and put down the picture frame. He furrowed his brow. “Did you ever access that?” 

“Access what?” 

“I planted a bug on that guy’s desk, pretty sure I told you.” He pointed. David was sitting back in the desk, typing, answering the phone, slowly working through the box of doughnuts Peter had given him. 

“Uh, no? I tried to make a connection to it, but -” As Weasel was talking, David had gotten out his own cell phone, cradling it between his head and shoulder as he typed on his computer. Then the man suddenly picked up the photograph, turned it around, and plucked the hidden bug from its back. He examined it for a moment, before getting up and leaving the office, still on his phone. He came back a few seconds later, call ended, and bug nowhere in sight. “Oh.”

“This isn’t the same guy who came into your bar, is it?”

“That business school prick? No, looked different. Do you know who he is?”

“Name’s David. Gives Peter new ID cards when he loses them. I think he somehow has the ability to let him get into the different labs.” He tilted his head. “What do you think he did with the bug?”

Weasel clicked through the employee directory, then the security database. “...According to where he swiped? Down the toilet.” 

“Huh.”

Weasel turned around in his chair, facing Wade properly. “So we have your fake boyfriend, who has access to these labs because of his friend here, which means Peter himself has definitely been in those labs; and we also have a potential fake version of your fake boyfriend also sneaking into these labs, too, and we don’t know which is which.” 

“Or if they’re working together.”

“Of course they’re working together, Wade! What other explanation is there?” 

“Maybe David - and Richard Conwell - are sneaking into the labs for one reason, and Peter’s doing it for…” For what? Scientific curiosity? Was he leaking something Stark didn’t even know about yet? “...Something else.”  

Weasel stared at him, his expression a mix between ‘this sucks that I have to tell you’ and ‘you’re fucking stupid, huh?’. “I told you this was going to end badly, Wade.”

Wade shook his head, standing up. “Well it’s not over yet. We don’t know everything.” He stalked towards the door.

“What else do you need to know, Wade?”

He tugged his holster and swords off the hook and secured them back over his suit before turning back to Weasel. “I need to know Peter stole tech and leaked it. I need to see it with my own eyes.” 

 

-

 

Wade was already on an express headed towards Jamaica when something else clicked in his head. He kept turning over what he had found out with Weasel, but something didn’t quite fit. If - a big ‘if’ that made Wade wince to think about - Peter  _ was  _ gathering intel, creating tactical suits, hijacking image inducer technology - why did he need David and Richard to help him out? Peter had friends that he hung out with on a regular basis, ones he talked to Wade about and tagged in his Instagram posts. David wasn’t one of them; and it wasn’t like this was some sci-fi version of the plan from  _ Office Space.  _ Peter didn’t need an old marketing intern and a low level IT guy to enact his plan. If he was going to bring  _ anyone  _ into a job like that, he’d be better off befriending a disgruntled scientist, wouldn’t he? 

Also - if someone wanted information or tech, they bought it outright. There had been occasions where someone would proactively steal something and sell it to the highest bidder - Wade was no stranger to trying to profit off of that sort of arrangement - but this tech wasn’t unique, or light years ahead of its time. Like Stark mentioned, SHIELD had versions of the image inducer, and while the suits were definitely clutch, it wasn’t the first time Wade had seen clothing that could turn the wearer invisible. 

{I can’t believe we live in a world where nanotech and invisibility cloaks are blase}

[We fought off an alien and her robot attack army for funsies yesterday - why wouldn’t it be a snore-fest?]

Both things were something worth stealing, but only if there was already a buyer lined up. And maybe it was the rose colored glasses he had for Peter, but if the guy was half as smart as he seemed, Wade couldn’t imagine Peter risking his job for a payout that wasn’t guaranteed. And yet, Richard Conwell was still, probably, out there, hitting up mercs and random guys who liked to do parkour and who knew what other channels to see if he could manage a trade off.

The whole plan just seemed… dumb. And Peter wasn’t dumb. If only he could find someone, anyone, who had used those suits before -

[Wait.]

{Spidey definitely mentioned it last night.}

Wade got off at the next stop and opened his phone to YouTube. He typed ‘Spider-man vs. Lizard’ and filtered the results by most recent.

About eight days ago, a handful of shaky cam videos were uploaded, showing the titular hero swinging through a small park, trying to take down the scaly villain. One of the videos was helpful enough to put the summary as: ‘OMG cant believe i finally saw spidey at work!! I was just walking back from school and when i passed juniper valley park he was there lol. Sorry the quality isnt great maybe next time :/’ the icon was very clearly a kid in middle school. 

Wade went to Google maps. “Juniper Valley, Juniper Valley, thank God it wasn’t fucking Washington or Jefferson or something… Hmm.” The results showed a small park and playground combo in Brooklyn. Wade looked up, squinting at the subway signs. “Ugh, I have to go back?” He shoved the phone back in his pocket and hopped down onto the subway tracks, ignoring the shouts and demands he come back going on behind him. He avoided the third rail and managed to jump up on the other platform just before the R train going east arrived. He got on, sat down, and the concerned stares of the other riders who saw him pull that stunt died off before they hit the next stop. 

The park was picturesque, even though most of the flower beds were barren from the cold weather and Wade could spot two felled trees in the distance, presumably from last week’s super fight. It was the middle of the day, so there were a few retirees around, but not much else.  

The parkour dudes Spidey mentioned in passing were barely a lead, but if they had any connection to the case, there was a chance these were their stomping grounds, and they lived nearby. And maybe they’d reappear if someone got a frisbee stuck in a tree again. 

[This plan sucks.]

{Just admit Peter’s an evil mastermind and go.}

[Ooh, a dog-!] 

Wade turned his head and indeed saw a dog. Several dogs, actually, all looped around the waist of a bored looking dog walker, who was texting on her phone as she meandered through the park. 

Wade glanced at the trees around them. A few looked like they might have been some sort of apple blossom - low to the ground with easy to reach branches. He got an idea. Keeping an eye on her, he took out his phone. 

_ \- guess who? just kidding it’s DP _

_ How did you get this number. _

_ \- idk you’re smart, figure it out _

_ \- just letting you know to bring your butt in the iron man suit over to juniper valley park in brooklyn in like 20 minutes. just you. i think i’ll know who’s been leaking your tech by then. _

_ You think?  _

_ \- it’s alllll a part of detective work stark. i do know that in 20 minutes i’ll either have your man or will be harassing an innocent civilian, so set your timer! _

With that done, he walked over to the dog walker. 

“Hey,” he greeted. “Wanna make fifty bucks?” 

She slowly looked up from her phone. He was still in the red and black and armed to the teeth get up he’d been in since Weasel’s. “Uh.” She started.

“I need you to tweet a picture of one of those dogs with the geo-tag on.”

She glared at him. “Is this a marketing thing? Is that why you’re dressed up like uh, you know, that guy?” She gestured vaguely, her irritation really making her Brooklyn accent shine through.

“Deadpool?”

“Yeah. I’m not interested.”

“I’m actually him, though!” She scoffed.

“Yeah right. Not sure if you’ve noticed buddy, but I’m not a tourist. And if I got a dollar every time I saw someone in a superhero outfit around here I wouldn’t have to work any - holy  _ shit _ .” Wade lifted up the edge of his mask. He didn’t always enjoy the show stopper that was his face, per say, but it was kind of funny to watch someone stop in their tracks. It was a rather convincing form of ID, too. “...Okay. Deadpool. Holy shit. Those weapons are all real, aren’t they? So… you want to, uh, what, again?” She glanced at the high-caliber guns strapped to his thighs. 

[Insert dick joke here.]

Wade puffed out his chest. “I’ve been assigned by Iron Man himself to look into some super suit tech that got leaked, and some guys who may have been using it were spotted here last week, rescuing someone’s frisbee from a tree - I know, it’s dumb. I figure if I can up the ante with a dog they might show up again.” 

“Hold up.” She put a hand out, the other one was already slightly raised to her face, phone screen still on. “Were these guys wearing like, all black gear?”

“Yeah! Have you seen them?”

“ _ Those  _ guys?” she asked, still tapping on her phone screen. “Yeah, they’re like the new neighborhood crime watch. They got a Snapchat and Twitter and everything. See?” She showed him the Twitter account. Their avatar was a graphic of three identically masked figures, encircled with white, and their handle was @NY_Amenders. “I think they’re trying to brand themselves as the home grown, localized, friendlier version of the Avengers. Kinda lame, but everyone around here has seen them.” She stared at her phone screen, frowning. “I think they’re starting a podcast or something soon, but that’s only for their Patreon members.”

“Holy shit. But they suck! They’re selling those super suits on the black market!”

“Probably to pay for all the podcasting equipment,” she said, conspiringly. “Well, Spidey’s always been my favorite, so fuck ‘em. Unfollowed.” She tapped the screen viciously. “Done.” 

“Your commitment to ethical superhero consumption is admirable.” Wade said. “But can you help me get them here so I can intimidate them?”

“I’m not going to be a murder accomplice. Not for that, at least.”

“No, I’m on a murder break! Totally a stand up guy now. Iron Man can take care of them - I just wanna draw them out.” Wade pointed at a dopey looking Australian shepherd that was sniffing the hell out of some grass. “You said they're neighborhood watch. So if a dog needed help…”

“Whoa whoa whoa. No one is putting any of these dogs in a tree. They’re not even  _ my  _ dogs.”

“Look, if this tech gets into the wrong hands -” 

“Please, if the worst thing that could happen is some gym rats get a fetish suit like you, I’m sure the world will be just fine.” 

Wade paused. The woman was pretty no-nonsense. But if she really was a Spidey fan... “Okay, look, maybe you don’t care about the greater good or whatever because that shit’s too vague,” he said in a rush, “but the only reason I’m asking is because your spandex clad unproblematic fave told me about these guys!” 

She looked up at him. “Are you talking about Spider-man?  _ You  _ hang out with Spider-man.” 

“Uh, have you checked the spideypool tag on twitter? We got candids for days! Go, look, look!” He gestured at her phone.

“Fine! Jesus.” She tapped at her phone screen in a more determined way this time. Some scrolling. Some squinting. A heavy pause. “...Fine. So these new supes are, what did you say? Stealing tech or something?”

“Yes, and it’s very very bad. And, more importantly - they suck. And I only know this because Spidey himself told me that they were too busy snapchatting and doing parkour tricks to help him out while he was fighting the Lizard!”

“Wait, like, last week? I saw the insta stories of that. They didn’t help him?” She grimaced. “Okay, fine. Do it.” She reached down to the leashed belt on her waist and unclipped a green lead with a corgi on the end. She passed it over to Wade. “ _ Don’t  _ let him fall. He has little legs.” 

Wade bend down and put the little guy under his arm, walking towards a low tree. “Too bad it isn’t a cat, huh? That’d be perfect.”

{Wouldn’t have to worry about it falling, either.}

[Yeah, you can bowl a cat.]

Wade walked back to one of the trees with wide, low-hanging branches, the girl trailing behind him. He put the dog in the tree, slowly letting it go. It was wobbly on its stubby little feet, but he was able to take a step back. The dog walker snapped a picture. “Okay, now get him down. Does this tweet need to say anything?”

“Uh, just at them and say, ‘help, some asshole put my dog in a tree and I can’t get him down!’ or something? And add this location.” The girl nodded, tapping on her phone again. When Wade got the dog back down she had finished her tweet and showed it to him. “...Its name is toast?” he asked, reading her message. 

“Yeah, he looks like he got toasted, doesn’t he?” She took the dog back and clipped him back onto her belt, shrugging at Wade. “I didn’t name him.” 

“Right.” Well. Now the waiting game could begin. Fun. He looked around, but he didn’t see any suited up weirdos - besides him, of course. “So.” He tapped his foot. “What’s your name?” 

“Yolanda,” the dog walker said. “What astute etiquette you have.”

“Hey, you’re the one on your phone the entire time we’re talking. You’re worse than Negasonic Teenage blah blah blah.” Yolanda sucked her teeth, but didn’t offer Wade anything else in the way of a response aside from a raised eyebrow. 

Another bout of silence. 

“So, I have to ask,” Yolanda said, “what’s Spider-man really like? He stopped some guy from running off with my purse like four years ago, but he didn’t really stick around to make small talk.” 

Wade tilted his head. “He’s… as amazing as everyone thinks he is, I guess,” 

“You guess?” 

Wade couldn’t help but think of Spider-man’s remarks from last night. He wasn’t about to share the details of that with a random civilian, though. “He just has a lot of hidden depths. Witty, dorky, a good person. Also, ridiculously jacked. I’m 99-percent sure he pulls his punches, because if he didn’t, he’d probably be able to sucker punch the Rhino so hard he would turn into vapor.” 

“Wow.”

“Right?” 

“That’s kinda hot,” Wade and Yolanda said at the same time.

{A kindred spirit.}

[More like our competition! Back off!] 

Yolanda laughed. “Wow. And here all my friends are talking about these new guys repping our neighborhood.” She rolled her eyes. “I mean, they’re starting a podcast. That’s the most whitebread thing -” 

“You rang?” A black blur jumped down from the trees, and a costumed man stood, hands on his waist, legs spread. 

[Ooh, Wonder Woman pose!] 

“Is this man bothering you, ma’am?” The man said, gesturing to Deadpool. 

“Not really,” Yolanda said. She glanced between the two of them.

“I am about to bother you, though.” Wade reached forward, but the wannabe hero hit something on his wrist and shimmered into nothingness. “Damnit! That’s cheating!” Grumbling, wait dug into one of his pouches. “Luckily I came prepared.”

“What, got some magic X-ray vision goggles in there?” Yolanda asked. 

“Even better!” Wade pulled out a fistful of baby powder and blew it into the air. The wind carried it in all directions, until a few particles seemed to hover in the air a few feet away. “Gotcha.” 

A disembodied voice muttered an, “oh, fuc-” just as Wade jumped forward and grabbed the suited up guy around the throat, marching him up against the trunk of a tree.

“Start talking, you said excuse for a Mcelroy brother.” 

“I d-didn’t do anything! What are you talking about? I was just trying to rescue a dog!” Wade pulled a knife out of its holster and jammed it in the approximate location of the man's wrist. He luckily hit the contraption, and the illusion flickered out, revealing the dark suit once more. 

“You and your friends are definitely the masterminds behind this. Well, maybe not masterminds. Definitely involved. So which one are you?” He wasn’t Peter, Wade could recognize the other man’s voice by now, and this one definitely wasn’t it. “Richard, maybe?” Wade felt along the base of the man’s throat, fingers catching on a seam between the costume and the mask. “Or maybe -”

He pulled the mask off, revealing none other than… 

“Uh, who the fuck are you?” Wade asked. It was just some _guy_ , unassuming, black hair, tan skin, brown eyes. “I don’t think you’re that Richard guy.” He had been blonde, allegedly. And the only other person who Wade had theorized being involved was David from IT, but this wasn’t him either. “Wait.” He squinted. “You look familiar.”

“No I don’t,” the guy protested, trying to break out of Wade’s grip without luck.

“Do you work at Stark Industries?” The man glanced to the side. Wade rammed him against the tree trunk. “Answer me!”

“Fine! Fine, okay, but just as a security guard. Low rank, no one important. I just wanted to do some good, okay? Just - let me go, please…” 

[Security guard…?]

“Jason Esposito?” Wade said. “Holy shit. What are the chances the one other guy I interact with at a huge corporation is the third wheel in this tech leak op? Somewhere, S.S. Van Dine is rolling in his grave.” 

{That reference is too obscure.}

“How do you know who I am? David said I’d be fine!” 

“So he  _ is _ in on this, huh?” Jason’s skin turned ashen as the blood drained from his face. “Don’t make me turn this into an actual investigation,  _ Jason _ .” 

“Yeah Jason,” Yolanda spoke up from; Wade turned around. She was still standing on the park path, dogs wandering around her feet. “Don’t be a dick.” 

“Yeah Jason,” Wade repeated, shaking the man by the collar again. “Don’t be a dick. So it’s you and David, huh? Is your third-wheeling friend named Richard? You three are using these suits to be some neighborhood crime watch? Or is it something else? I know you guys have been trading the specs on these things for money, weapons. What’s your game here?” 

“Listen, we just wanted to be heroes, okay? We weren’t tryin’ to hurt anyone.” 

“Except for all the times you tried to sell stolen property on the black market. Do you know how many random henchmen I’m gonna have to fight now that are wearing these things? Like,  _ so  _ many. It’s gonna suck!” 

“W-We just needed an extra source of income before we got big enough to get brand deals,” Jason said in a panic. “None of us wanna work boring desk jobs - we just want to help people!”

“You clowns have a Patreon,” Yolanda said with a sneer. “You guys are in it for the glory. What superhero has a brand deal? You think Spider-man walks around talking about Hello Fresh and Dunkin Donuts and shit?”

“He should,” Jason argued, but his tone was sullen. 

Wade tapped the man's cheek to bring Jason's attention back to him. “Listen Jason, here’s what’s gonna happen. Iron Man is gonna fly by, take you somewhere for questioning, and you and your friends are going to tell him all the places you sent these suits.”

“I wasn’t in charge of that - that was Richard’s thing!”

“So why didn’t he come to see me last night? I called him and everything?” 

“He got a bad vibe?” Jason ventured. Wade growled at him. “Or you’re the guy who bugged David’s desk - are you that guy?” 

“Maybe. Did David put two and two together?” That would have been impressive. 

“He figured someone was on our trail. Told Richard and I to not talk to anyone, try to grow things organically for a while.” 

“Yeah, but I came in with Peter. Shouldn’t that have been some form of proof I was -” He stilled. “Peter doesn’t know what you guys are doing,” His voice nearly trembled at that. If Peter wasn't involved, it didn't absolve him of everything, but it meant that he wasn't who Stark tasked him with finding. 

“I - I mean, he -”

“Answer the fucking question!”

“He - He just started talking to David a couple of months ago about changing his ID card! Dave’s always been a geek and he hacked his own ID card as soon as he got a job so he could get to the 65th floor break room or something stupid like that.” 

[They did have good snacks.]

“He just wanted a tour of that stuff. Peter is like, a real scientist - he explained the different projects to Dave and got his access and that was it.”

“For Peter.”

“Yes.”

“And you and David have no idea what he’s been doing with that clearance?” Jason shrugged. “Use your words.”

“No idea! I don’t know, mad scientist shit?” 

“And the plot thickens,” Yolanda drawled. “Also, Iron Man’s here.” Wade turned around, eyes up, and saw a bright blur streaking along the afternoon sky, towards them. 

“Oh God,” Jason whimpered. Wade could see tears well up in the man’s eyes. “I love Iron Man. I won best Iron Man costume at Comic Con for two years ago! He can’t see me like this!” 

“Should’ve maybe thought about that before stealing his intellectual property and selling it to dangerous criminals. Hey tin man! I made a breakthrough!”

Stark landed, cutting his repulsors and walking towards the pair. “Is this something important or are you just assaulting a civilian like you said you’d be doing?”

“Both. His name’s Jason Esposito, one of the three guys responsible for the breach.” Wade hauled Jason from the tree and walked him over to the suited Avenger, hand clamped hard on his shoulder. “They wanted to play at being hero, basically.” 

“I think they basically wanted to make it big doing crime stopping live streams,” Yolanda commented. She walked up to Iron Man, dogs still trailing around her waist. She held up her phone to the gold helmet. “See? They’re all up to date on their social and everything.” 

“I didn’t realize you had a partner in crime, Deadpool,” Iron Man said, ducking to the side so he wasn’t looking at the phone anymore. “Any other relevant information?”

“His buddies are that old marketing intern and a guy named David, from IT. They may also have their hands on some imade inducer technology, which may explain why Peter can be in two labs at once if you look at the time sheets and security cam footage."

"How did you get that."

Wade waved his hand. "Same way I got your number. Anyway, Jason gave them up, but freely admitted Peter Parker inadvertently gave them access, but wasn’t involved.”

“Really. And, why did he want access to restricted lab areas in the first place?” Wade hesitated, wishing he knew the answer now more than ever, but all he could do was shrug.

“I’m still not sure of that,” he admitted, "but I’m going to find out.”

"See that you do," Stark said, before he took a half starstruck, half paralyzed by fear Jason into the air, flying back towards Manhattan. Without a goodbye, of course. “Well, that was fun,” Yolanda said, as she watched the pair go. “But I need to get the dogs back home.”

“And I have more investigating to do. Thanks for helping me out.” Just as Wade turned away, Yolanda called out for him to wait.

[Maybe she wants an autograph.]

{Nah, selfie, it’s more her style.}

“Can I get my fifty bucks?” she asked. “You got a pretty good picture of Toast in a tree, so.” She held her hand out. 

“Jeez, fine.” Wade dug through his pockets and pulled out his wallet. “You’re lucky I’m trying to be a good guy this time around. Otherwise I’d be inclined to run off.” 

“Right,” she drawled. Wade handed her two twenties and a ten. She grinned at him. “Aaand you just became my second favorite hero. Congrats, DP. Bye!” She walked off, gaggle of dogs following her as she left the park.

“...Second favorite?” he muttered.

{No one is gonna give up Spidey for you, face it.}

[I wonder who Peter’s favorite hero is?] 

Wade shook his head. “No! No thinking about Peter like that until we clear his name.”

[And how are we going to do that?] 

 

-

 

Wade had gone through the investigation with a bit of doubt, here and there, but Weasel left him no room to try and bury his head in the sand; Peter was definitely up to Something. Whether that had to do with the tech leak or something more or less nefarious was the only missing factor he needed to figure out. Part of him wanted to remain optimistic - one of the three Musketeers back there had been Peter every time he was where he wasn't meant to be, and Peter only had access to those other labs... for funsies. Or something. 

Even he had to admit that was asking too much. 

The worst part was that he just _didn't_ know the extent of Peter's actions. He didn't know how big the lie was - how upset he should be. There wasn’t the usual, angry zap that punched through him when he was faced with a friend’s betrayal, or the way sadness crept up on him, only to be pushed swiftly down, when he was rejected by someone he knew. He didn’t know what to feel - he didn’t know anything.

Maybe he didn’t know Peter at all.

But - he couldn’t help but think, there were things that put Peter in labs he shouldn’t go into, giving him access to materials and research he couldn’t have, but all the things he had told Stark earlier in the week still rang true: there was no solid evidence that someone was paying or blackmailing Peter into leaking anything. No motive, no reasons. 

[You’re saying that because you wanna tap that.]

{Because he makes you feel special.}

[He was lying. To you, to everyone.]

{Had to be.}

Wade sucked on his teeth. Peter… could be lying. No, he was definitely lying. About some things. The question was - which ones? 

So, Wade was left in the middle a conundrum. Just a conundrum, not a crisis. This was at a manageable level where he just needed to  _ think  _ about things, not freak out about them. He desperately tried to ignore the fact that if he had remembered any spy-thriller-romance and romcom he had ever seen ever when Peter first approached him, maybe this whole mess could have been avoided. But now he was  _ pining,  _ he wasn’t too proud to admit that. When life threw you someone as intelligent, funny, kind, attractive, and genuine as Peter Parker, you don’t ignore it. Especially when you were someone like Wade.

[He is smart.]

{Smart enough to play us.}

[Genuine though?]

He had resigned himself to the fact that he and Peter could never really be together. Wade had been using him to collect information - Stark had wanted him to prove his involvement in a data breach, and he was pretty sure that mutual trust was like, super important when it came to a lasting romantic relationship. 

And if it wasn’t CW-show-level dramatic  _ enough _ , after last night, Wade had the creeping suspicion that Spider-man, his superhero man crush of du jour - who was he kidding, of way too long - may have been showing some interest in him? 

[If Cable shows up I’m pretty sure we can start a harem anime.] 

{Ugh.}

“Ugh,” Wade echoed. The point  _ was,  _ he had no fucking idea how to navigate this. He had to get to the bottom of this investigation, know who to point the finger at, and finish it once and for all. 

He had to, but did he want to? Would he really be able to hand over a guilty Peter to Stark and maybe the authorities? Was he trying to protect some guy who was just pretending to like him so he wouldn’t get caught? He wanted answers, but Wade didn’t know what he would be willing to sacrifice to get them. 

[Just find Spidey, he can help.]

{Should’ve just tried to shack up with him in the first place. Spider-man doesn’t deal with this shit, right?}

[He coasts around, easy, breezy, beautiful.]

{He’s just as nerdy as Peter - he’s probably just as cute.}

“No one is as cute as Peter,” Wade mumbled, morose.

[Can Peter bench press us with one hand though??]

{Good point. Who to pick?}

“Is this a love triangle? Do I qualify for that now?” Wade groaned. “Love triangles suck. The fact that we can’t solve all our romantic problems with a threeway is the stupidest fucking -”

{Hold up.}

[Spider-man and Peter Parker and  _ you _ .]

{Meat lover’s special for sure.}

[Which one bottoms? Maybe -] 

Wade violently shook his head until the peanut gallery in his head stopped. He was in the middle of scoping out Peter’s house - well, the house he lived in with his Aunt. He had made the journey over right after he left the park, so he was still Deadpool gear. He figured if Peter or his aunt saw him, he could pass it off as being weird anti-hero business and fuck off before they asked too many questions. The ideal plan had been that no one would be there at all, but looking into the downstairs living room with his binoculars, Wade knew that wasn’t going to happen. He thought he had Peter’s aunt’s work schedule figured out after so many nights of watching the house, but she was a nurse - probably switched shifts. He didn’t see any other lights on, though, and the older woman was sitting on the couch, book in her lap. Hopefully wouldn't be up and about for a while yet. And it wasn't quite four yet. He knew Peter only had class until three on those days, but he tended to stop and chat with his friends at a cafe, or go to the library, and wasn't back until five or later. Hopefully this wasn't a day where he decided to return home early. 

 

Okay, go time. For better or worse.

Jogging across the street, he quickly found the window to Peter’s bedroom - it was cracked open, despite the chill in the air. Wade already knew that was how he got back into the house, if he came home too late and didn’t want to wake up his aunt. 

“Hm, two storey climb. I think I have some sticky pads somewhere in here.” He checked the many pockets on his utility belt. “Sticky pads, sticky pads - aha!” He affixed them to the palms of his gloves and jumped as high as he could, hands affixing to the wall as he climbed up, eased the window open, and slipped inside. 

Wade crept further into the room, flicking on the light switch. The space was in disarray, looking like someone had tried to keep things tidy, but couldn’t quite manage it. There was a basket of clean, folded laundry next to an overflowing dresser; the comforter was haphazardly tossed over the bed in a sad approximation of making it, and a few shelves had been installed higher up on the walls, holding a few dusty looking Lego figurines and books more suited for an elementary school reading level. Everything else looked more concerned with Peter’s college courses and his internship at Stark Industries; notebooks and heavy textbooks. And a collection of post-it notes strewn around the room, most of them addressed to himself.  _ Call Robbie to hang out. Do laundry, Peter! Bring MJ’s book back next week. Peter, get your thesis proposal to Professor Mercer - just DO it, Peter!!  _ Wade couldn’t help but chuckle at the various messages. He knew no one could be as busy as Peter and have a handle on it all. 

The desk was easily the most hectic part of Peter’s room, so Wade started there. His laptop wasn’t there, but he didn’t go searching for it just yet. He carefully began to shuffle around papers, mindful to not misplace them. Usually, by the time he got to this point in a mission, he’d be tearing the room to shreds, but he was pretty sure Peter had some essay discussing the differences between some new school of thought on space travel and how you could, hypothetically, move a physical object at the speed of light without compromising the cargo and humans inside, versus the traditional line of thinking that you  _ absolutely could not do that, do not fucking try that, what are you thinking?  _ Or that was how Peter explained it to him. 

All he saw were monstrous textbooks with boring diagrams and no hidden compartments inside them, a copious amount of notes, and a few pens and highlighters. The cork board above him showed a heavily annotated calendar on the previous month, and a cluttered collection of pictures. There was one aged looking photograph of a couple - the woman had Peter’s mouth and narrow face, the man his nose and jawline. There were more of what Wade recognized as Peter’s aunt May, usually standing with a smaller version of Peter and a man who had to have been his uncle Ben. The more recent photos had just Peter and May together.

[He was a cute kid.] 

{He gets sadder as time goes on, I think.} 

It was true; despite the bright smiles that adorned many of the images, Peter’s eyes had changed, over time; Wade hadn’t noticed it until he had something to compare it to. Even in the ones with his friends, all posed in front of a beautiful, spray-painted mural, there was something that weighed his expression more than the others.

[The crushing weight of being alive really hit this one hard, don’t you think?]

He glanced further down.

“When did he take this?” It was of him. In his ruggedly handsome disguise, of course. One of the times they had met up in the park by Peter’s school, before it had gotten too cold. Peter  _ had  _ brought his camera a few times, but judging by the size of the image, it was probably taken on Peter’s phone. It was obviously a candid; Wade with his hand on his cheek, turned to the right, watching something out of view. The sun brightened his hair and one of his eyelashes, turning it flaxen where the ray shone.

{He’s got talent, I’ll give him that.} 

Wade swallowed, feeling the residual wave of guilt push back inside him with a renewed intensity. “Gotta focus.” He started opening drawers. Again, more pencils, more books, more papers, nothing inside the textbooks, until - He picked up a behemoth looking ‘Understanding Biology’ textbook that felt suspiciously light. Not to mention it was a Bio 101 text that Peter wouldn’t have any use for as a junior. 

He opened it up, finding the pages had been carved out to make a pocket for a composition notebook that was earmarked, torn, covered in paper clips and had definitely seen better days. 

Looking inside the notebook, he found a folded map of New York City. It wasn’t a tourist map, either; it was heavily detailed, probably cut out of an Atlas. It had marks all over it: X’s, O’s, question marks, large circles, arrows, entire neighborhoods shaded in different colors. Flicking through the notebook, it seemed to be split by borough, then by streets. There were names and approximate locations, like ‘ _ Miguel and Sam - Christopher + Hudson’; ‘Sara’s new place, 129th + Jamaica’; ‘Alex in Elmhurst _ ’. Certain ones had dates next to them, others were crossed out. It went on like that for pages. Rarely would there be any identifying information, just first names, strings of initials, or what was probably a nickname, followed by the street, or a hospital, or sometimes even the name of a prison. 

{It’s like a cork board of crazy in a notebook.}

[Is he looking for someone? Everyone? Is he trying to solve a murder?]

Flipping back to the map at the front of the notebook, Wade noticed a few things. Even though there weren’t actual names assigned to the symbols, he realized that quite a few marked areas and buildings were… superhero related. Maybe having Hell’s Kitchen shaded in red didn’t mean anything in particular, but most of the buildings were instantly recognizable. Stark’s Avenger HQ, of course, the Baxter Building, Dr. Strange’s Sanctum Sanctorum, along with most of the high profile science labs and think tanks in the city. He even recognized a few secret SHIELD bases - ones that he only knew through Weasel’s intel, or sneaking into the place himself. There were dozens of others even he couldn’t place. 

On a whim, he flipped to the Manhattan section, the street names starting all the way downtown and working up, past Midtown, the Upper East and West sides, further into Harlem. There were plenty of names, but near the bottom of the page, the last entry to the neighborhood’s list, there was  _ W.W.W. -  _ 216-7A Broadway + W 134th. His full initials and apartment address. 

[...I don’t remember telling him our last name. Or middle name.]

{I don’t remember him being an unhinged serial killer who liked stalking people.}

[I knew he was too good to be true!]

“Okay, there has to be an… explanation for this.” Having an OCD notebook that seemed to keep tabs on a third of NYC’s population didn’t necessarily make Peter a corporate spy. He could just... be a regular spy. Which didn’t make it  _ better,  _ but if he genuinely wasn’t involved in Stark’s mess and Peter wasn’t gutting orphan kittens then maybe things would actually turn out fine. Who knew, maybe Peter would respect Wade seeking him out for a mission; this could really be the beginning of some weird, spy vs. merc relationship, complete with rooftop trysts and murders to solve. 

[Always look on the bright side.]

{Always think with your dick, more like.}

“Fuck, why isn’t this on his computer? It’d be way easier to copy everything.” Instead he was stuck flipping through pages, trying to find anything incriminating Peter explicitly. 

[Shouldn’t him knowing secret locations to various bases that we didn’t even know about mean something?] 

Going through the results for Brooklyn, he was relieved that Peter didn’t seem to know about Sister Margaret’s. So he wasn’t omnipresent, probably. He either had a source for some reason, was working for someone...

{Is he HYDRA? A.I.M? Some other secret agent with an acronym you can pronounce?} 

“...Or he found this all out himself.” Wade bit his lip. Peter  _ did  _ work for Stark Industries. The hiring process seemed totally legit, but the fact that Peter worked just a few floors below where Avengers congregated, planned missions… He had figured out who Wade was - which wasn’t exactly like cracking the Enigma code, but still - did that mean he heard Stark tell him about his recon mission? His head was churning with possibilities. “Fuck, this is too much,” he hissed to himself. “I hate spy work! I should’ve told Stark no, it didn’t work when I killed my way into being a secret agent and it isn’t working now!” 

He shut the notebook, stalking over to Peter’s closet instead. Yanking open the two doors, he was met with a collection of strewn about clothes. He kicked some shoes to the side, parted a few hanged sweaters, and stopped. 

[Is that a secret door?]

{Sure looks like a secret door.}

The top of the ‘door’ only went to Wade’s hip, but it was something. There was an old, framed poster in front of it, partially covering the small, hairline-sized crack between the wall and the entrance point. Easing the poster to the side, he saw a small latch. 

“Please don’t have any real skeletons in here,” he muttered, reaching forward to undo the clasp, using the small metal to ease it open…

“Who’s in there?” A deep voice demanded. Wade yelped, falling backwards, into the main room. The voice was coming from the open window. 

“Depends,” Wade said, “Who’s asking?” 

There was a pause. “Wade?” the voice went. It was undeniably Peter’s.

[Oof. Busted.] 

{If Peter didn’t know who W.W.W.’s antihero alias was, he’s about to find out.}

Wade reluctantly stood up, dusting himself off. He should have probably been a bit more nervous - Peter was a spy, or an amateur detective, or a stalker - if this were a movie, he would have definitely been the frightened co-ed in a tank top about to fight the big bad of the film. But despite what he learned from Peter’s room, he was still pretty confident that he could take the guy in a fight, and even if he couldn’t, he’d survive the ordeal anyway. 

Peter slipped through the window, into the room, dumping his backpack onto the floor. He looked around, but Wade hadn’t messed the place up any more than it already was. Catching the open closet doors, however, Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you in my room?”

Wade gestured to his tactical suited self. “Why do you know who I am?” Peter had the decency to look sheepish.

“I mean - you have to know who you’re dating in this day and age, right?” Wade walked back over to Peter’s desk and brandished the notebook. Peter crept further into the room, eyes dark and face pale, but Wade just handed him the thing. 

“Who you’re dating and half of New York, apparently. Cut the shit, Peter, what’s going on?” He crossed his arms. 

Peter tucked the notebook under his arm. “You can’t ask me that! You’re trespassing on my property.”

“It’s your aunt’s property, technically.” 

Peter went even paler, before stalking over to Wade. “What did you do to her?” Wade put his hands up.

“Jeez! Nothing. She doesn’t even know I’m here. Why would I hurt your aunt?”

Again, Peter seemed embarrassed; he leaned back, out of Wade’s space.

{Shame.}

[Righteous Peter is pretty sexy, not gonna lie.]

“I don’t know, to get information or something? She… could be involved in… whatever it is you’re looking for.”

Wade’s brow hitched up. “Is she?”

“No.”

“...You sure?”

“No! She has enough problems without worrying about mine.”

“Hm, I think my old therapist would dub that ‘ignoring your support system to carry the burden of a personal crisis’, which sounds exactly like you.” Wade leaned against the desk, legs crossed at the ankle. “So you’ve got problems - tell me.”  

Peter shifted on his feet, fingertip running along the worn edges of the notebook. “It’s not… exactly a problem.”

“Mystery?”

“No.”

“Sexuality crisis?”

“No!”

“Loved one to avenge?” Peter winced. 

“That’s not… relevant to what I’m doing, really.”

"I think my old therapist would call that -"

“Wade, I swear to God -” He glared, but didn’t actually finish his sentence.

[Yeah. Sure.]

{We’re tabling that for later.}

Wade inclined his head. “You know who I am. Do you know why I’m here?” Peter snorted, looking away.

“Stark doesn’t hide his anxiety and paranoia that well. I could see the writing on the wall. He started making a lot of visits down to my lab, talking to me, specifically. A couple of days listening at the rumor mill and I put two and two together.” Peter looked at him. “Then you showed up.” 

“So you know what I’m looking for?” Peter nodded. “Then I have to ask you - why did you tell David to give you access to so many labs out of your clearance level?” This question Peter looked like he was expecting, though the way that he clutched his notebook to his chest belied the fact that he really would rather not answer it. 

“I can promise you I never leaked anything,” Peter defended, “maybe I gave someone in SI a point of entry, but that was never my intention.” 

“But why did you need that clearance in the first place, Peter? And don’t tell me it was pure scientific curiosity.”

The corner of Peter’s mouth twitched. “Well there goes that excuse.” He squeezed the notebook tighter to himself, looking at their feet. “I really don’t - I haven’t been able to tell anyone. If the information got into the wrong hands, my friends, my family - they’re all at risk.” 

“Extortion? Is someone making you do this?” Wade felt his hackles rising at the thought; someone taking advantage of some poor college student because he was an easy target. “I can take care of that for you, you know.”

“I appreciate it, but that’s not the reason.” He bit his lip, brows scrunched up in concern. “If I tell you… things aren’t going to be the same between us.” 

“We’re already stuck in a game of spy vs. spy,” Wade said. “Hey, you know it's okay, right? If you’re not involved with the SI leaks, then we can figure out what to tell Stark. I don't want your future jeopardized because you made a dumb mistake. We all deserve second chances." 

"Right, yeah, second chances." Peter said. He looked at his notebook again, before walking towards Wade. He laid the book gently on the desk, standing right in front of the older man.

"Hey," 'Wade said again, touching Peter's wrist. The other man looked at him. "I don’t think anything you can tell me will change things. I have a pretty high threshold for weird shit, you know.” Peter stared at Wade for a long moment, before nodding.

“I think you’re right.” Peter leaned in closer. "I’ve told you so much shit - and we both did our respective snooping on each other. We don’t have much left to hide, do we?” Peter’s voice was so quiet it seemed more like he was just thinking out loud than asking Wade a question, but of course Wade couldn’t help but answer.

“I mean, I haven’t even started talking about what I’m into, you know. I have plenty of secrets in that regard.”

“Sexy librarian and sexy scientist. And the yoga thing - that’s a solid foundation to work on,” Peter shot back, just as sarcastic, just as eager to dance around the issue at hand. 

“Who isn’t into that?” Peter rolled his eyes, and reached forward.

Wade honestly wasn’t expecting Peter to touch his face - he had actually been expecting a punch, or a knee to the groin, if Peter wanted to run away from the interrogation. But instead he had one hand over his clothed cheek, and he looked like he was closer to kissing Wade than trying to get away.

[Actually, I think he’s leaning in.]

{Holy shit.}

“I never thought I’d say this, but. Wade.” He swallowed. “I…”

“Peter? Are you up there?” Aunt May’s voice sounded from the lower floor. Peter jumped so high it looked like he was going to land up on the ceiling, and Wade’s surprised jolt made him hit his head against the wall behind him. 

“Ow! Shit! How does she  _ do  _ that?” Wade hissed, holding his skull.  “Stupid romcom tropes!” 

“Uh, yeah Aunt May, just got back!” Peter shouted, voice high and rushed. He crowded Wade again, this time his voice hissing with urgency. “You need to get out of here.”

“But -”

“No buts. She  _ cannot  _ see you like that. She can’t see anybody who looks anything like you anywhere in the vicinity of here, alright?” He tugged Wade forward, clearly putting his back into it to get the much larger man to move. He pushed him towards the window. “I get out of work at 5 tomorrow, I’ll come see you then.” 

Wade hesitated. “I can’t just let you go. I need you to tell me - whatever it was you were going to say.” 

“And I will. I promise. Just not now.” 

“Peter?” his aunt’s voice drifted up again. “Did you eat yet?” 

“No, I’ll come down in a minute! Just working on something!” Peter pointed at the door to his bedroom. “Do you want to tell her everything? Because she’s gonna ask way more questions than you - or Stark, for that matter.” The cool air from the window was blowing at Wade's back.

[Who cares?]

{Some poor old lady is inconvenienced for an hour. Big whoop.}

Those two had a point - if this was, say, a murder investigation, Wade couldn’t care less about bothering someone and answering their questions. And leaving a suspect behind was also a pretty definite no-no. The image of a frowning Olivia Benson was bearing down on him where he stood. 

Still… this wasn’t an episode of SVU, and Wade was fairly certain Peter didn’t have the means or the motivation to skip town in the next eighteen hours - even if he did, Wade was confident he could find him. Stark should be satiated for a little while as he questioned Jason and tracked down the other two guys. Which meant that this was now becoming more a case of solving his own curiosity. 

And, for better or for worse, it was Peter - that had to mean something, didn’t it?

[Nope.]

{It really doesn’t.}

[The fact that he could hang out with you for so long and pretend to enjoy it means he’s definitely a secret agent.]

_ Or,  _ he thought, that meant the connection he had with Peter was genuine. No one could pretend to stand him for this long if they really didn’t want to associate with him, not unless he was offering a fuckton of cash in exchange, or something. What had he offered Peter? Some pancakes, Chinese takeout, and a few lame jokes. 

[Is that what we’re qualifying for true love these days?]

{If you’re a stressed college student who looks like he could stand to gain a few pounds…}

“Wade,” Peter urged, because it had been a few seconds of competing thoughts and he hadn’t said or done anything. 

And then Wade decided to ask the dumbest question in the entire known universe; one that, once you asked it, meant you already had your answer and were just too afraid to admit it. 

“I can trust you, right?” 

Peter wrapped his hands around Wade’s gloved ones and squeezed. “Of course you can. I promise,” he said. 

Then he stepped back, and Wade climbed back out through the window, landing in the small gap between Peter and his neighbor’s house. Peter stuck his head out the window. “I’m coming over to your place tomorrow, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” And with that, the window shut. 

A moment later, the light in Peter’s room went out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update is finally here! I'm so happy - I hope the long chapter was worth the wait!!
> 
> The S.S. Van Dine reference was from a fairly popular mystery writer who had twenty rules for writing mysteries that, for the most part, still hold true today. I think a lot of people inadvertently stumble upon them in their online crusade for writing advice. This fic is way more of a romcom than a mystery, though. The only plot I'm into writing is a bunch of UST, lol.
> 
> And the notebook! This is more of an original Peter Parker head canon - he just seems to know a lot of people, and especially in the comics he's shown to be pretty involved in the community, knowing the locals from all walks of life. I figured he couldn't have a big, super obvious wall of people he met as Spider-man on his wall, but maybe he keeps tabs on people in a journal somewhere, and of course it looks like the scribblings of some crazy stalker to everyone else.


	7. Martyrdom Complex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight content warning: Near the end of the chapter, Wade thinks about some not great things happening to Peter, and also describes himself with some ableist terms.

Stark Industries was very conveniently placed right across the street from a hotel; a fairly large one with a Starbucks chain in the lobby. No one was sitting at the few chairs and tables just outside - it was cold and the car exhaust combined with the crowds didn’t denote much of a ‘view’. But Wade was sitting there, anyway, ignoring the wind chill, tapping his foot, and waiting. 

Wade had used this place more than once when he first started the investigation on Peter Parker. It had been warmer then, and he had a lot less personal concerns related to the college student. He had once bemoaned this assignment; reconnaissance meant all he could do was sit around and kill time until something happened. And now, he found himself in the same position, but he wasn’t restlessly shifting around in his seat, staring at the crowds of bundled up New Yorkers out of boredom, this time.

Now the waiting was agony.  A visceral churning in his gut combined with a needling in his brain. The 24-hour sports commentator show in his head didn’t help, either. At every opportunity he was reminded why this was a bad idea: Peter was guilty, he couldn’t be trusted. He let him get away like the lovestruck idiot he was, and he had no clue what would happen now. He had been too lonely for too long and let the first person who looked at him twice get away with anything. If Doms or Cable or, hell, even Colossus were here, they’d be sure to call him a dumbass, a sentimental prick, or someone who was letting their feelings misguide them, in that order. 

“You look like you’re waiting for someone,” said a voice beside him. One that was very obviously Peter’s.

Wade let out a scream and jumped in his seat, banging his knee on the underside of the table. “Don’t  _ do  _ that,” he hissed automatically. Wait. Peter was right  _ there _ . He looked up and confirmed it. Well, at least the other man had the decency to not look amused at how Wade had been caught off guard. “Uh, you - what?”

“I clocked out ten minutes early. I work way more than part time, so I figured it wouldn’t matter. And I had a hunch that you’d be waiting for me to get off work.” He jutted a thumb behind him. “So I went to Chilangos up the street and got some burritos.” He held up an overstuffed paper bag. “Think we can eat here?” 

Wade had a laundry list of questions he had to ask Peter, but now he was too frazzled to remember any of them, except, maybe, how the hell he snuck up on him this time. Instead he just nodded and kicked out the chair across from himself. Peter slid into the seat. 

“So...you brought food?” Wade asked, finding his voice after a few scant seconds. Peter shrugged, handing him a foil wrapped burrito. Wade tentatively unwrapped it. It smelled like too much melted cheese and smoked paprika and seasoned beef. His mouth was already watering. 

“I was starving,” Peter explained, unwrapping his own.

“Solid choice,” Wade said. He belatedly wondered if Peter could have poisoned his food, but for as much of an enigma as the guy was, he probably didn’t have the means to get his hands on a toxin that would actually kill him for good. “This doesn’t get you out of answering my questions, you know.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m not that naive. Like I said, I was hungry. I think interrogations would go better with complimentary food, right?” He gave Wade a small smile. “Besides, I figured I owed you from all the times you paid for - well, every time we ate out together.” 

God, this was going to suck, Wade knew it. “First thing I need to know - why do you have access to those labs?” 

Peter struggled to swallow what he had been chewing. He coughed. “Jeez, no waiting, huh?” 

“I need to know,” Wade stressed. “You couldn’t tell me last night - so what is it? You said it would change things, once I knew.”

Peter sighed, and leaned back in his seat. His face was tilted towards Wade, but he kept his eyes on his lap. “I didn’t want to say - I haven’t told this to anyone. For a lot of reasons. I don’t even know how to say it without it sounding too weird to believe, but I…” He stilled for a moment, biting his lip. 

Then he leaned forward in his seat, closing most of the distance between the two of them. He stared at Wade and quietly said, “I have a special relationship with Spider-man.” 

_ That  _ made Wade pause. For about three seconds.

“...You’re fucking Spider-man.” Peter’s brows shot up.

“No! That is  _ not  _ what I said.”

“What else does a ‘special relationship’ entail?” Peter groaned, reaching into the paper bag for a napkin. 

“We, uh, have kind of known each other for a long time. Since I was a photographer at the Bugle, back in high school. Spidey let me get good shots of him because I ended up ranting to him that I was just trying to do my job and I needed the money to save up for school and help out my aunt - and we ended up talking regularly, after that.”

Wade narrowed his eyes. “So you’re friends.” 

Peter made a ‘so-so’ motion with his hand. “I mean, he doesn’t send me a birthday card or anything, but because of my job I ended up being in the wrong place at the wrong time when it came to getting pictures of him - he saved my ass more than once.” He started to fiddle with the napkin, tearing it into strips. “I guess I do know him more than the average civilian. We’re… similar, in a few ways. We both want to help people, and maybe are pushed to do that because of some… things that happened to us in the past.” 

“Spider-man never mentioned this to me, and we’ve been fighting crime together for a while.”

Peter shrugged again. “Why would he? I’m a civilian. He wouldn’t put me at risk. If people worked out there was a connection between us...” Peter didn’t verbally finish the thought, but the implication was obvious enough. 

Wade inclined his head. “Okay, so, you do what with him?”

“I don’t do anything  _ with  _ him, exactly. I just,” he shrugged a shoulder noncommittally, “help him out. Keep tabs on things, get him info if he needs it.” Wade realized that had been why Spider-man was so insistent about reaching out to Peter when they first encountered the SI suits being worn by those drug dealers. Peter was his go-to guy for information all along; he tried not to feel hurt about the lack of information from both of them. “And most recently,” Peter added, “I may have given him some of SI’s tech to modify his suit.” 

“...Really?” Peter nodded. “He doesn’t have a spider cave?”

Peter let out an amused huff. “Not that I know of.” He bit into his burrito again. For all the hand-wringing Peter had been doing last night, he was clearly not as affected by this mind fuck of an epiphany as Wade was. It was taking quite a lot of concentration from him to not just drop his mouth open in shock.

Wade leaned back in his seat, trying to go for casual inquiry. “The guy always seemed pretty smart - why does he need to steal tech?”

“If I had to guess, he’s more of a regular guy than some other heroes. He doesn’t have much in the way of funds to get material to make stuff. And I really  _ do  _ owe him a lot. I mean, not that he’d ever mention it or try to cash in on those favors, but… if I see something, I say something - to him.” 

“And if I were to meet up with Spider-man right now and ask him point blank, he’d confess to knowing you well and getting tech from you? Because as far as I knew, you two didn’t interact these days.” Wade squinted. “Did he tell you who I am?”

“What, you think I couldn’t figure it out on my own?” Peter shot back, his tone teasing, oddly enough. He took another bite of his burrito, and Wade couldn’t think of any immediate response to that, so he dug into his own. 

So - Peter was stealing tech  _ for  _ Spider-man? Spidey not mentioning how he knew Peter was disappointing, but, like Peter said, justified. Spidey being overly protective of civilians - even to the point of blindsided optimism - had always been his MO. So of course he wouldn’t want to implicate Peter, even to Deadpool himself. Also not mentioning that he had his very own SI employee to provide him with new toys… that seemed like a move that was too similar to what Wade himself would do. 

[Not very heroic, if you think about it.]

{That’s probably for the best. The less noble Spidey  _ and  _ Peter are, the better for us.}

It also explained a few of those cryptic warnings he gave to Wade about Peter - Spider-man couldn’t say what he really felt without exposing his and Peter’s relationship, but he could try to remind Wade of Peter’s humanity - his inherent fragility. 

Not that he seemed that fragile to Wade, of course. Not after realizing what stunt he pulled. 

“Spider-man and I found some other people using suits that came from Stark Industries,” Wade said. “I’m surprised he didn’t mention how he has his own spy working for him.” 

“I’m not a spy!” Peter yelled, before clearing his throat, trying to quiet down. “I mean, I guess, technically, I do some… investigating for Spider-man. But he’s a hero - if you found some new gadget you know he’d love, wouldn’t you give it to him?” 

Wade shrugged. “Sure,” he said. He totally would. Anything to earn brownie points with the hero. “But I’m chaotic good,  _ at best.  _ So don’t think whatever I’m doing is the epitome of moral and just.” Wade took another bite of his burrito, chewed, swallowed. “Actually - why didn’t Spidey tell me - it’s not like I would’ve cared. If he had been honest as soon as I told him about my mission, he could’ve said what you were doing, and I wouldn’t have told Stark. Actually, he didn’t even need to be honest. If he lied and said he had a new suit from Stark himself laying around back at his spider pad, I would’ve believed him.”

“Maybe he didn’t want to lie to you.”

“Well, he lied through omission, which is the sort of lie people do when they feel bad about lying but not bad enough that they’d actually, you know, come clean.” Peter didn’t have a response to that. “And now I know  _ why  _ you wanted an in to those labs - but how did you know they were working on those projects in the first place?”

Peter finished his burrito and grabbed a new napkins to wipe the grease from his fingers. “That’s an easy one. When I first started working at Stark Industries, I didn’t have a lab placement. Some scheduling screw up or something; a lot of labs wanted extra hands and I was academically qualified for a few of them, so for a while I just went where I was needed. Scientists tend to be nerds, but we don’t really care about whatever rules HR sets out. Even after I had my lab assignment, some of my friends from other parts of the buildings would ask if I could look at something and help out. We all knew it was technically against the rules, but collaboration is how you get breakthroughs, really.” He leaned back in his seat, waving a hand. “I know everyone idolizes Stark for being able to make a prototype Iron Man suit in a cave out of a box of scraps, or make a new freaking  _ element  _ in his house in Malibu, but every scientist today is standing on the shoulder of giants. We need other sets of brains to work, you know?” 

Wade didn’t even remotely work in the same field as scientists, but he had been in plenty of labs, for various reasons, and ignoring rules to get results was a quality many science-types had in spades.

[Weren’t those usually evil scientists?]

{The ‘try and defy God’ scientists?}

[The sort of scientists that made you into a walking tumor?]

Wade chewed the inside of his cheek. Breaking dumb HR rules wasn’t the same as Weapon X; Peter just wanted to be helpful to everyone - his coworkers and Spider-man. It was prone to getting him into trouble and noble at the same time. “I... I can believe that. So once you got the ID card upgraded by David, you just kept going to those different labs, and no one noticed?”

“I mean, people  _ noticed,  _ but no one said anything. Most of the time I didn’t even need it, I just knocked on the door and someone let me in.”

“So during those times, there wasn’t even a record of you even being there on the time sheets,” Wade said, eyes widening. “Stark did say you tended to disappear for long periods of time... “ 

Peter shrugged. “I guess I do. So that technically implicates me in what Stark wanted you to dig up on me, huh?”

“To be fair… not just you. I found a few more moles on the way.” Peter raised his eyebrows. “David and a few friends of his - you didn’t think he was helping you out of the goodness of his heart, did you? He was using image inducer tech to impersonate you, too. Without him, you probably wouldn’t have been flagged at all.” 

Peter’s eyebrows shot up even higher, eyes flickering along Wade’s face. “Holy shit - it was  _ him?  _ And you caught the guys involved?” 

“Yesterday, before I went to see you, I caught one of his partners in crime. They’re so lame - you should actually be embarrassed they’re stealing your face. But the guy I caught freely pointed the finger at the other two involved and swore you weren’t involved. Baby’s first interrogation, you know? He’s in Stark’s hands now.” He shoved the last of the burrito into his mouth.

Peter sighted, shoulders slumping “Thank God. I didn’t think they’d be interested in that sort of thing - David and I kind of ran into each other during some building-wide training. I figured all he wanted from our relationship was a tour of some real life labs and some doughnuts once in a while. If I had known… I never would’ve done what I did. I figured someone actually dangerous was doing that leak.” 

“They might not have been dangerous, but who knows how many people have grade A Stark tech for probably shady purposes. They were selling that shit on the black market, Pete, and I doubt they kept records of what they gave to who and where they live. Nothing good is gonna come from this.” Peter frowned. “Listen,” Wade put his hand on the table. “I can believe that you did what you did to help Spider-man, and if he vouches for you, then we can put all this behind us. Stark has the bad guys. Well, one of them, but I can’t imagine the other two have the ability to run from him for more than, like, a day.” He shoved the foil and used napkins into the empty brown bag, grimacing. “David maybe would have started exploring labs on his own and come across that tech - or something even worse, but we don’t know what would have happened if you two hadn’t made friends.” 

“I - I mean, yeah.” Peter said, looking stricken, he didn’t meet Wade’s gaze. “You’re right.” 

“Hey, we all make mistakes. Who hasn’t accidentally helped some bad guy on accident? The thing is - Stark still wants the official word from me about  _ you. _ ” Peter glanced up.

“So,” Peter said, after a minute of silence, “what  _ are  _ you gonna tell him?” 

[What  _ are  _ we going to tell him? We like Peter more than Stark, still, right?]

{Peter’s a liar. Spider-man hasn’t vouched for him yet, either. How can we know for sure he hasn’t been selling the tech to other people, too?} 

[Jason seemed pretty convinced…]

{He and his friends are clearly idiots.}

“Excuse me,” an older man in a suit appeared, having clearly come from inside the hotel. “You two can’t use this area to eat unless you have a room with us here.” Wade rolled his eyes, the motion directed at Peter - the younger man glared at him before apologizing to the manager. Wade took his time getting up, stretching his arms and getting blood flowing back into his legs. 

“I guess that’s our cue to leave,” Wade said. Once they had cleared the table and made their way back onto the sidewalk, the man went inside. “Jeez, it’s not like there was a crowd of people waiting to use the space.” 

“Maybe there were some customers inside that were offended by our freeloading,” Peter countered. “That’s why I like parks.” They walked a bit longer, pausing at the corner of a block. “So,” he started. “Um.”

“Come back to my place,” Wade said. Peter looked up at him. “I really don’t feel like carrying out the rest of our conversation outside. The wind chill out here sucks.” He leveled the shorter man with a pointed look. “And I’m not done asking you questions.”

Peter let out a dry laugh that belied some nervousness. “Right. I guess it was too much to think you wanted to do something else.” 

[Really?]

{Are we sure he knows who we are? Like under the image inducer tech?}

“You’re a hard one to pin down, Pete.” 

The younger man elbowed him in the side. “Nah, not that hard.” He nodded further down the street. “You take the 7 to get to the west side, right? Come on.” The streets had already been crowded, but now that it was after five there was a swell of other pedestrians, moving and weaving around them, some bold enough to knock shoulders, some who were determined to not let anyone else touch them as they tried to go home. 

After getting jostled for the fourth time in thirty seconds, Peter took his hand. “Don’t want you getting lost,” he said cheekily, as though Wade hadn’t been living in New York for a decent portion of his life by now. 

He nearly tripped the both of them when he realized he wasn’t wearing gloves this time around. 

Peter could most certainly feel the press of something alien between their hands, the weird layer that the image inducer provided.

And he didn’t care.

Didn’t comment on it at all. 

Wade glanced down and - yep. A pair of normal looking hands intertwined. He was definitely wearing them. 

{He really does know who we are.} 

[And he just… doesn’t care?]

“Holy shit,” Wade murmured, trying to be quiet. Peter gave him a sidelong glance, but didn’t say a word. 

He didn’t let go of his hand either. Not for a long, long time. 

 

-

 

Wade unlocked the door to his apartment, switched on the light, and gestured for Peter to come inside. He stayed behind to shut the door and lock up again, and when he turned back around, Peter was leaning over to look at a disassembled rifle Wade had left on the kitchen table - one of the things he had tried to fixate on as he counted down the hours until he could see Peter and get to the bottom of things. He was about to make an excuse for why it was there - along with wondering what else he had left lying around, when he remembered that he didn’t have to. Peter already knew. 

Instead Wade leaned against the door and looked at the younger man. The unruly mop of dark hair, the thin fingers on his hand that were holding onto the strap of his backpack that he carried with him everywhere. Tight jeans, sneakers that had seen better days, slightly crooked posture as he rested his weight on one foot, then the next. And when he glanced over his shoulder at Wade, that same tired expression. That same gaunt look. 

No matter what Peter said with a smirk and a glint in his eye, he  _ was  _ hard to pin down. Wade didn’t know what to think of him. Much less what to  _ do  _ with him now. 

Peter had his fill of looking at the weapon and turned back to Wade. “Well, we made it. Told you I wasn’t going to ditch.” 

“Yeah, you’re definitely getting a medal for being a good suspect in a white collar crime case.” Peter rolled his eyes, smiling as he wandering over to the couch in Wade’s living room, sitting down and spreading his arms over the back of the sofa. “Hey, I’m not done yet!”

Peter jutted his chin out. “Well, I’m waiting.” 

“I have one more question,” Wade said, sitting next to the younger man. “How did you know who I was?”

Peter leaned towards him. “I looked you up.” he said simply. Right. Wade forgot that was an option. “After you told me your name, I just - I’ve been… hurt, before. By people who say they’re one thing and really they turn out to be…” He sighed. “I looked you up, didn’t find anything. I thought, military, right? Maybe you had to be on the DL, or something. Witness protection? A secret identity?”

“And that was your cue to run far, far away.” Peter scoffed.

“Have you met me? That was just my cue to start asking around.”

“I see,” Wade said, voice thin. He coughed, looking away. “And what did you find?”

Peter moved forward and reached for Wade’s hand, encouraging him to look at him again. “A lot of half truths. You were special forces, but… You haven’t worked with them in years, have you?”

“No.”

“Your real name is Wade Wilson. Your alias is Deadpool. You’re -”

“A mercenary. I get it. How does it feel to know I paid for our lunch dates in blood money?” He tried to pull his hand out of Peter’s, but the other man held tight, wouldn’t let him go.

“I was gonna say hero,” Peter said quietly.

“Oof, sounds like you got some bad info in there.”

“Alright, fine. The file said mercenary with signs of rehabilitation, no known kills in ten months.”

“Actually we’re going on eleven,” Wade corrected immediately. “And still not a hero. Not actively killing people doesn’t make you a good person.”

“Well, no, but, you uh. Work with other heroes, don’t you? And even on your own you’ve been pretty good at… being good,” Peter winced. “This sounded better in my head. The point is, you’re doing better now than you ever were before, and that definitely means something to me. I hope it means something to you, too.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” He wasn’t expecting Peter to put him on the spot like this. He didn’t feel like getting into the motivation behind his amazing rise to heroism, or whatever he was trying to do. “So you know about - all my tragic backstory. That I lied to you. That I only ever sought you out because Stark paid me to get close. And if you know all that then you probably also figured out that I’m not like, 100%  _ with it.  _ And you’re still here.”

Peter nodded. “And I’m still here.”

“Why?”

“I guess you can say you piqued my curiosity.” Wade tried to look nonplussed, but he knew he deflated at least a little bit at that.

“So you were bored.”

“Not  _ bored.  _ But you sure are entertaining.” He smiled at Wade, but when the older man didn’t return it, he squeezed his hand. “Wade, I know who you are -”

“You just read some dark Wikipedia article on my life,” Wade snapped.

“And I’ve spent hours upon hours with you! I don’t care who you are, you can’t fake being yourself for that long. I know we both kind of ended up, well, spying on each  _ other _ , but you can’t honestly say all the flirting, joking, wanting to be together - that it was all  _ just  _ because of a job. Because if I said it was, I know I’d be lying.” Peter sucked in a breath. “And I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

Wade let out a dry laugh. “I don’t think there’s much you don’t know about me that I could even lie about at this point.” It was an uncomfortable feeling; Peter seemed to have been a step ahead of him the entire goddamn time. Usually that sort of person was a not-so-great guy, but Peter was… Peter - fuck, Wade was still stupidly attracted to him. Still wanted so desperately to  _ believe  _ him. And here he was right now, on his couch - when had he gotten so close? Peter was about two inches from actually sitting in Wade’s lap. Any internal argument he had against pushing Peter away and getting a grip was disappearing at a rapid pace.

“I don’t know what you’re gonna tell Stark, and I still don’t know if you really want this,” Peter said, quietly. That confident attitude was dissolving before his eyes now; Wade actually saw Peter’s face turn pink. “But if want - I mean, do you think we can - the two of us - be together? For real this time?” 

Well. That was everything he wanted, wasn’t it? But Wade still felt himself wanting to draw away. “Pete, I - yes, I’d love to be with you, but it’s not - I’m not…” He didn’t know how to finish the sentence, so he just made a faint gesture at his face. He didn’t care about scaring random civilians or getting passing glances from heroes, and Weasel’s descriptions of how he looked could be taken to champion levels of roasting, honestly. But sue him if he wanted the one person he wanted to be with to actually like how he looked. Or tolerate it, at least. 

Peter sucked on the inside of his cheek for a minute. “I don’t blame you, for lying,” he said softly. “I thought I would be, I kept reading and waiting to feel betrayed but I - I couldn’t. I mean -” 

“My Freddy Kruger but uglier mug is a pretty sure way to put people off their lunch, I get it.”

“No! The nano tech that you use to hide your face is. I mean, everyone knows who you are, whether you’re wearing your suit or not. I would get tired of that. No way to get lost in a crowd. Always having to put on a show; living up to everyone’s expectations of you. No way to be - just, be.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I think I’d want a break too, you know?” 

“So this is like, a pity thing?” Peter thew his hands up in the air.

“No! Wade! This is me saying I know who you are and the reasons why we met, and I forgive you, and I still want to try and make this relationship work. Because I do want to be with you. And I already know - I mean I won’t. I won’t run away. If you show me the real you.” Wade eyed him suspiciously. “Please. For me?”

Wade wiggled his fingers involuntarily, before taking a deep breath, as though he were plunged into the Arctic, and he peeled off the mask. The nanotech gave some resistance before pulling away from his skin. Wade tugged the last of it free from his neck, and held it in his hands. With no skin to match to, it faded back into a light, sheer blue. He stared down at it not sure if he was proud or happy or just scared. He tossed it onto the coffee table nearby before looking up at Peter. 

One advantage to hanging out with the morally flexible was that most of them had their own grotesque features; scarring and burn marks, twisted visages, even a lack of skin all together. No one really looked twice at him. But heroes were… good. And most super powered good people tended to be attractive; he didn’t know why more of them didn’t get their faces mangled in a fight, aside from maybe a cool scar or two that merely added an air of intrigue and sexy ruggedness to their faces. Most of them were at least acclimated enough to weird and uncanny beings that they also didn’t pay Wade’s face that much mind, considering.

Civilians were… different. True, some didn’t care. Some needed just a minute to get over the initial shock, before it was totally normal. But most of them? They tried to avoid looking at Wade, at least when he could see them. Others were more blatant with the disgust, the morbid curiosity, the universal, internal monologue of  _ ‘What happened to him?’  _ and  _ ‘How did he survive that?’  _

If Peter had initially been shocked, he had schooled his face into a carefully neutral expression, like someone staring at a piece of art in a museum while they listened to the tour guide give historical context. His eyes didn’t stray, except to move to a different part of his visage. His eyes, his nose, his mouth. 

“Wade,” Peter started.

“It’s bad.”

“No it’s not.”

“Don’t bullshit me just to be  _ nice,  _ Peter, I know what I look like.” He took off the gloves as well, tearing them from the ends of his fingers and tossing them away before rubbing a hand over the top of his scalp, feeling the random dips and crags and bumps as he went, like his entire body was a broken down highway somewhere in Hoboken. “I’m basically a non ambiguously Caucasian avocado. Just admit it.”

Peter squinted at him. “Well… yeah, that. That’s… a strangely accurate way to describe everything going on.” Wade looked away. 

[He’s right. We’re right.]

{Still hurts to hear  _ him  _ say it, though.}

“But if you haven’t noticed,” Peter added without a pause, “I’m a millennial, and we’re fucking  _ obsessed  _ with avocados, Wade. It’s like, our thing. For some reason.” 

Despite himself, Wade felt a corner of his mouth tick up. “You just want an excuse to not be a homeowner. You’re killing the real estate market.”

Peter snorted. “I was doomed to never own a home the second I was born in New York City, Wade. And decided to go to college. So I might as well go full steam ahead right?” He moved just a bit closer, and now he really  _ was  _ in Wade’s lap, cupping Wade’s face in his hands, thumbs running over his uneven cheeks. “What I’m trying to say is it really, really doesn’t matter, okay? Not to me. You know what we call people who won’t be with someone even if they’re a really good fit in every other aspect, just because of how they look?”

“Uh… someone with a preference?”

“Someone who’s shallow,” Peter answered evenly. “It’d be one thing if we didn’t get along, or if I didn’t know you at all. I know it’s not like we’ve been with each other  _ forever _ , but I’d like to stay and see if things will work out with the two of us. Me and you. Don’t you?” 

After a moment, Wade took his other hand and rested it over Peter’s, giving the man a small nod. He had to give Peter some credit. He wasn’t flinching or backing down. He was used to the once over and pointed, trying-to-be-polite-so-I’m-avoiding-eye-contact routine that a lot of supers gave him; his face wasn’t the weirdest, or grossest thing they’d ever seen, and usually if he was out of costume around them then they had more important shit going on than how Wade looked. But the number of people who really, honestly, didn’t care - could stare at him and talk to him and just… not treat him any differently? Wolvey, a few other X-men, Spider-man (presuming he  _ was  _ keeping eye contact, he couldn’t tell with the mask) and… 

[Don’t say it.]

{Yeah, your version of Gwen Stacy; very sad, super tragic.}

[Added depth to your nonexistent charac -]

“Shut up,” he all but snarled. Peter frowned.

“I didn’t say anything?”

“No - sorry the. Um.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “Voices. But they’re not really voices, more like boxes. Narration panels. I’m crazy, if you recall from my file. Super great read, by the way, have you brought it up in your book club yet?”

“I’m too busy for a book club,” Peter said, totally unmoved by the random schizo behavior. Nice self preservation instincts this guy was sporting, though Wade couldn’t be surprised about that  _ now.  _ “What were they saying?” Peter asked, voice softer. 

“You not - not caring about this.” He gestured to his face. “Reminds me of someone I knew...” And just as he had to hold Vanessa’s body, feel her go limp and still and cold - his mind cruelly flashed the same image of Peter. Limbs broken and twisted, or taken and experimented on, or - anything, really. Humans were so stupidly, unfairly fragile. Bad luck or getting noticed by the wrong people and then where did you end up? 

{Murder staged as a suicide.}

[Cement shoes.]

{Poisoned?}

[Imagine having to scrape him off the ground after an unexpected hundred foot drop.]

{Imagine someone shooting him in his pretty little face.}

[High enough caliber and there won’t be anything pretty left.]

“...Someone who died because they got close to me. And I got - careless.”

“Oh. I -”

“I don’t need you to apologize.” Wade looked off to the side. Maybe this was a mistake. Letting Peter - or anyone - close to him was asking for a repeat of _that._ “Like I said, it’s my fault.”

Peter’s thumb rubbed along Wade’s cheekbone again. “I wasn’t going to apologize. I was gonna say I understand what it’s like to lose someone close to you because you - you didn’t act fast enough or get there in time or... you just weren’t  _ good  _ enough.” Peter sniffed and Wade looked back on instinct. The younger man’s eyes remained dry, if a little brighter than before. 

Sighing, Peter rested his forehead on Wade's shoulder. “You never get used to it, huh?” Wade carefully wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him closer in some approximation of a hug.

Wade felt like an idiot. Of course Peter knew, to some extent. He had dug up enough information on Peter to understand  _ that.  _ Parents died when he was a child, Uncle shot in a hit and run, girlfriend and best friend perished in freak accidents. The only surviving relative was an ageing aunt.

[Death, death, and more death.]

{Probably wouldn’t like seeing us die every other week.} 

[Even if he didn’t mind - could  _ we  _ keep him safe?]

“No, I don’t think you do,” Wade managed. “Is that why you walk around with some Nancy Drew notebook, keeping tabs on everyone?” 

That sparked a laugh out of Peter, and he straightened up. Fully in Wade's space now, their noses practically touching. “Nancy Drew? I thought I was sarcastic and scrappy enough to merit a Veronica Mars reference.” Wade grinned back. “I can’t  _ not  _ help people, Wade. That’s something that is never going to change.” 

{What did we say? Self-sacrificing streak a mile wide.}

[Stupid, reckless, going to get himself -]

“I know,” Wade said, cutting the thought off. “But hear me out here, what if we helped people -  _ together _ .” Peter blinked. “You do the investigating, I’ll be a meat shield, it’ll be great.” 

One of Peter's brows quirked adorably. “I thought you and Spider-man were doing the team up thing these days.” 

“Spider-man is freakishly strong, fast, and amazing. And he was the one who warned me to be careful with  _ you _ .” Peter rolled his eyes. “He’s like, half an Avenger! I have to listen to him.” 

“Does this mean I'm going to have to have a pissing contest with Spider-man for your attention?” Peter teased, poking Wade in the chest.

“Pfft, nah. You’re already way ahead of him.” 

Peter's smile went wider, and something loosened in Wade's chest. Something finally felt _right._ “Yeah? How come?”

“One thing," the older man murmured, and he finally got the courage to put a hand on Peter's cheek and slowly bring him closer. "He’s not you,” Wade said, and he kissed him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know all y'all were gunning for The Big Reveal... lol, sorry. (Not sorry). 
> 
> Wow, I thought last chapter had a lot of dialogue. This is all dialogue pretty much. Next chapter should be a bit livelier! 
> 
> I was on the fence with how I wanted to do the Face Reveal bit, specifically Peter's reaction. I was encouraged to keep this version in, and I do like it - a lot of fics have Peter describe Wade as beautiful or uniquely mesmerizing, which is fair enough, he IS big sexy, but idk, in my own life I've been trying to lean less into 'everyone/everything is beautiful' and 'beauty shouldn't be an important quality in determining how we interact with others and ourselves.' Wade not being attractive shouldn't matter, in the grand scheme of things. That was kind of my ~philosophy~ behind that. Also, Peter is forever a smartass, and if I can't have him rant about smoothie bowls (a scene I cut from chapter 5) then I'm making him joke about avocados, damnit!


	8. A Pearl I Turn Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for a character attempting (but not completing) suicide. They are saved and no longer at risk afterwards.

Wade woke up with a definite crick in his neck - and his legs weren’t fairing too great either, and actually, his shoulder and back area were also feeling a bit sore. He opened his eyes.

Right. He had to stop falling asleep on the couch. He sat up with a groan, kicking away the comforter from his bed that had somehow been put over him. He couldn’t help but smile at it - Peter probably tucked him in when he got up. Wade stood up and stretched, spine popping and joints cracking as he started moving. Peter’s sneakers were still on the floor by the coffee table, and he could faintly hear the sound of water running from the bathroom. 

[Things seem… Good.]

{Too good.}

“Oh, shut up,” Wade snapped aloud, taking the comforter and laying it back out on his bed. He changed into clothes that hadn’t spent the last twelve hours being pressed into the couch cushions before heading into the kitchen with something that could be considered a spring in his step. 

The coffee maker was half done brewing a pot when the water shut off. By the time the bathroom door opened a few minutes later, Wade was had two mugs full of coffee. “How much sugar do you want?” he called out.

“Oh, tons,” Peter answered, voice low and raspy from a combination of talking all night and just waking up.

Wade opened a cabinet, glancing over his shoulder as he reached for the sugar bowl. “So that’s like -” His hand fumbled with the canister and he had to slam it onto the counter top to stop it from smashing on the floor.

Wade had naively thought that being able to keep things a risque but respectable PG-13 last night meant he was totally impervious to Peter’s charms and could definitely control himself; not that he  _ wanted  _ to avoid destroying/getting destroyed by the other man, but they had just done the Big Conversation about Big Secrets and Wade was trying to play conservatively for once in his life. So that meant a glorified sleepover full of playing video games, ordering takeout, talking late into the night about boys and unicorns and the most recent political scandals going on, some light making out and a few dozen ass grabs, and falling asleep on the couch. Totally wholesome. Wade might as well get his V-card reinstated.

Except Peter was currently naked - aside from a towel around his waist - and  _ fuck  _ he was still so stupidly, aggravatingly attractive. Brown eyes bright and awake, skin flushed from the hot water, droplets gliding  _ everywhere _ , and holy shit - Peter was actually kind of jacked. 

“Good morning,” Wade managed. Peter flashed him a smile and walked closer. Wade could make out a water droplet running from Peter’s clavicle down his chest and fading as it ran along his stomach, abs subtly outlined in a way that indicated his body was meant to be a glass cannon - quick and flexible.

[We already know he’s flexible.]

{We don’t know  _ how  _ much. Yet.}

“Morning. I used some mouthwash, by the way.” Peter grabbed one of the mugs. “And soap.” He glanced down. “And a towel.” He took a sip of coffee. “Hope that’s okay.”

Wade couldn’t think of a smartass response. “You didn’t want sugar?” he managed instead.

“I did - just not in my coffee.” Peter took a pointed sip, holding Wade’s gaze before he said, “I’m not actually drinking this yet - it is way to hot.”

“And all my impressions that you were secretly a mysterious sex god?” Wade spread his hands out and made a mock explosion noise with his mouth. “Poof. Gone.” Peter laughed, and he leaned forward just a little bit more, and Wade followed, kissing him as one of his hands went to Peter’s side. His skin was still running hot from the shower. It made Wade want to persuade Peter to actually get into bed and not leave, but he couldn’t ask that. Not yet. Not so soon. 

He finally had something good, something real in Peter, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up. 

Peter pulled away, handing Wade his mug. “I’m gonna go get dressed again.” He started backing towards the living room. 

Wade whined. “Do you have to?” 

“I’m starting to get cold,”

“I’ll warm you up.”

“Is that an offer?” 

“Well, if you ask nicely -” Wade’s phone buzzed; someone was calling him. Peter ran a hand through his hair. 

“Saved by the bell,” he said, glumly. “I’ll be right back,” And with that, he disappeared around the separating wall, and Wade dug out his phone from his back pocket. It was the number Wade had used yesterday to contact Stark. 

“He is totally just calling me because he forgot which bank account to send my money to,” Wade muttered to himself, before answering his phone. “Hey, Jordan Belfort, what’s up?”

“Peter Parker just signed into a lab he doesn’t have access to. He shouldn’t even  _ be  _ here today. I knew you were getting too close to him -” 

Wade added some sugar and milk to his coffee and took a sip. “Uh, I hate to interrupt, but whoever that is - it isn’t Peter.”

“Yes. It is. I’m staring at him through the security feeds.” 

“Those don’t even show shit in 4K and you know it - besides, didn’t I tell you that your image inducer tech was stolen, too? If you didn’t catch those other two guys, it could be them.” He opened a cabinet and put some bread into the toaster, before leaning against the counter. “Hell, it could be anyone who they sold that tech to, probably.” Did Tony  _ want  _ to believe a random college student was the next Black Widow?

“That still doesn’t prove  _ this  _ isn’t Peter.” 

Wade glanced over - Peter had emerged once again, wearing the same jeans and sneakers and plaid overshirt from yesterday, but Wade could clearly see one of his t-shirts underneath, tucked into his jeans. He took another sip of coffee. 

“Peter’s not there, Stark,” Wade said carefully. Peter looked at him opening his mouth to speak, but Wade held a finger up to his lips. “You’re looking at a clone, or a robot, or something, but that is not Peter Parker.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I’m staring at him right now.”

“And how do you know that’s not some fancy projection, or -”

“Because he spent the night at my place in a quite  _ intimate position  _ for most of the night, and let me just say,” Wade whistled, “there’s no faking that.” He winked at Peter, who was definitely a bit pinker in the face than he had been. Wade felt bad for exaggerating the truth, but he figured Tony would be more inclined to believe him if he stressed how close they were - even if that was when they were cuddled up together watching a scary movie. 

It seemed to work, as there was a pause from Tony’s end. The toaster popped, and Wade dropped both slices on a plate and began slathering them with butter. 

“It’s wasn’t that kind of mission-!”

“I know, but what happened, happened,” Wade said, phone cradled between his head and shoulder, waving the knife in the air as he talked. “The point is Peter’s not our guy. It has to be someone else. David, Richard, secret fourth member? How many super villains can disguise themselves?”

“There’s the Chameleon,” Peter said. Wade snapped his fingers.

“There you go, it’s totally the Chameleon.” 

“I don’t care  _ who  _ it is - get down here and help me apprehend him. Your mission isn't over yet. And bring your new boyfriend, too. He’s not in the clear, either.” 

Wade winced. “I don’t think that’s a good -”

“If this is an imposter, we need to make sure which Peter is real.”

“Oh believe me, this Pete’s definitely a real boy -”

“Just do it!” The line went dead. 

“Huh.” Wade turned to look at Peter. “So…” He held out a plate. “Toast?” 

“Don’t we have to get down there?” Peter said, cheeks looking sallow again once he realized what was happening over the phone. 

Wade shrugged. “I mean, I get hangry, and nobody likes me when I’m hangry.” He took another bite. “Okay, I can call a guy and get us over there ASAP. Real breakfast can wait till after we clear your name.”

“Guess that means it’s time to suit up?”

“That, and put an end to this shitty mystery once and for all.”

 

-

 

“Dopinder, once again, you’re a doll,” Wade said, before gently patting the roof of the beat up taxi.

“No problem, Mr. Pool. You and your friend have fun!” He rolled up the window and sped back into the constant press of business district traffic. 

“He was nice,” Peter said, keeping up with Wade’s determined march into the SI building. 

“Yeah, you’d never guess he killed a man, right?”

“ _ What? _ ” 

“Anyway,” Wade clapped his hands together and walked through the security inspection area, not bothering to stop when the alarms went off. Peter flashed his ID badge. “Stark did  _ not  _ answer my texts, so who knows where we’re supposed to be going.” He hit the button on one of the elevators. A few security guards were edging closer to him, but seemed unsure of whether or not to approach, considering the costume.

“Oh, hey, no worries fellas,” Wade dug into one of his pouches. “I’m an Avenger.”

“This says affiliate,” one guard who was close enough to read it pointed out. “And it’s only a temporary permit.” The elevator doors opened.

“Well, gotta go!” He dragged Peter inside and hit the top floor. “Okay, so I don’t know what’s happening, but I do know - you have to be safe. I can’t believe Stark wanted to involve you in this -”

“I mean, I am kind of involved in this, anyway,” Peter said, leaning against the elevator wall.

“Yeah, but this guy could be armed and dangerous!” Peter made a vague gesture to Wade’s, well,  _ everything.  _ “Well, yes, but I wouldn’t hurt  _ you. _ Whoever this imposter is, though?”

“This isn’t my first possibly life threatening adventure. Don’t worry about me.”

“I think we established yesterday that no matter how many life threatening adventures you get into, I’m never going to stop worrying.” 

_ “I do hate to break up this conversation,”  _ a cheery, robotic voice said,  _ “but Mr. Stark has informed me that the intruders you’re looking for are currently on floor 92.”  _ The elevator gave a slight jerk as it stopped, the doors sliding open. 

“Cool, thanks, Hal,” Wade said, before leaning down to whisper in Peter’s ear, “just be careful, okay?”

“You too.” 

“So, uh, do you know what’s on this floor?” Peter shook his head.

“Something with uh, radiation, I think. But I don’t know anything about its uses - I think it was implemented here after Doctor Banner and Stark met; he comes and goes, apparently.” 

“Okay, so it’s -” Wade’s phone buzzed. He dug around in his pouches and fished it out. It was that same number that had called that morning. “What is it, Stark? We’re at the 92nd floor.” 

“And by we you mean -”

Wade sighed. “Yes, Peter is here, too. Just tell me where to point and shoot so we can end this.” 

“Why isn’t he down here with us?” Peter asked, looking around at the brightly lit hallways. 

“Because I’m trying to make sure these two morons are the only ones who planned on invading my labs today. I’ve got your perimeter.” 

“Yeah, that’s where all the action is,” Wade drawled, “the perimeter. Also, did you just say two people?”

“They’re both wearing those damn suits,” Stark said. “I had to rig up a heat seeking code for the security cameras before I realized it.” 

“So what are they doing?”

“I’ve been keeping tabs on the two of them for the last half hour. They haven’t done anything violent yet - just been going in and out of labs. That ID card the hopefully fake Peter has been using gave the pair of them open access to everything.” Wade and Peter shared a glance. 

“That sounds like one of the IT guys, David,” Wade said. “He has the ability to grant access to a lot of restricted areas and reprint the cards.”

“How do you know that?” Wade hesitated, his eyes still on Peter’s. The truth wasn’t horrible, but it was something that could potentially get the younger man fired. 

“I wanted to do some research on people Peter came into contact with on a regular basis. He was one of them.” Stark just grunted; Peter’s shoulder bumped lightly against Wade’s, a silent sign of gratitude. 

“Deadpool,” Stark continued, “you said these kids weren’t  _ just  _ taking this tech to do heroics.” 

“No, they’ve been selling them to interested buyers.”

“Well it looks like one of those buyers had their eye on a gamma radiation projector we’ve been working on.”

Wade narrowed his eyes. “That sounds suspiciously like a weapon.”

“It’s so finely targeted - as specific as a cell by cell basis - we were going to be able to use it for medical treatments.”

“Like gamma-knife surgery,” Peter muttered beside him.

“There’s been some other suggestions too, like a way to sterilize tools or even get bacteria off of food - I’m not the project manager here so I can’t give you the total run down on it - but it still has the potential to be highly dangerous in this stage of research. We haven’t gotten the refinement down enough.”

“So you’re telling me that you basically have an overpowered irradiation gun in there?” Wade asked. “And someone wants it for evil, probably. Awesome.” 

“I’m telling you so you can understand how serious this is - this has to stop today. I can’t have any more people spying on my work and stealing tech. I’m not taking the chance that they’re planning some Ocean’s Eleven thing here. Right now, the only good thing is that the actual gun is behind a series of electrical-based locks. That should keep them from -” A crash sounded from inside the lab. 

“Yeahhh, they just broke it, I think.” Wade said. “So, we should get in there, right?”

“David might be a better hacker than we thought,” Peter mused. 

“Enough of this! JARVIS will let you in. Deadpool, stall them, catch them,  _ something _ .” The line went dead again.

“Huh.” Wade tucked the phone away. “He’s not one for proper greetings  _ or  _ goodbyes, is he?” Peter shrugged.

“He’s busy, maybe?”

“Too busy for basic etiquette? Petey, I -”

_ “The door is open, if you two would like to make an attempt to stop a heist any time soon.”  _ JARVIS chimed in. 

“Zip it, Wall-e, we’re getting there!” Making sure Peter was behind him, Wade took out one of his pistols and kicked the door open. “Alright, enough with the vanishing act - I know you guys are still in here. I just wanna talk!” 

“Yeah, with a glock out, you just want to talk,” Peter quipped from behind him. 

“Well now you’ve scared them!” He looked around. The lab was empty, though it had clearly been ransacked. There were papers on the floor and tools turned over on their side. He walked towards something that looked like a glass case. Knowing Stark it was probably made out of some sand blasted vibranium, but it was cracked and torn open now; the contents missing. “That doesn’t look like hacking to me,” Wade said. 

“If Banner works here often enough there might be some extra strong anti-Hulk pieces of furniture laying around,” Peter suggested. “One reinforced stool and -” He mimed holding something over his head and crashing it down. 

“Right,” Wade said. His boots crunched on the glass strewn along the floor. He had made the mistake of not refilling one of his pouches with baby powder, so he wasn’t quite sure how to actually find these guys. “Hey, do you have any powdered sugar? Or coke? I’d even take sand, because I think -” Something that sounded suspiciously like a sci-fi laser charging up charged up nearby, and he instinctively ducked, yelling for Peter to do the same. A second later he spotted the counter he had ducked behind had a small hole shot right through it, steaming like it had been burned. “Did you happen to see where that was coming from, Peter?”

“Uh, yeah,” the younger man’s voice sounded a bit strangled, and Wade popped his head up to get a better view of the doorway. “Here!” He could see Peter grappling with nothing, but the way his teeth clenched as he used his weight to bodily shove the other person away, it had clearly been a ploy for the invisible men to sneak out. 

Peter managed to land a lucky punch, and suddenly a nearby table jolted, something heavy landing on it. “He’s here!” Peter said. Wade rushed over, and now he was the one grappling with an invisible opponent. He was trying to capture one of the flailing arms, and eventually he hit a lucky blow, clenching a hand around a bulky wrist piece and crushing it. A suited man glitched into existence. Wade ripped off the mask and stepped back enough to observe him: Blond and business school affiliated, no doubt about it.

“Fuck, it’s you!” Wade grabbed the man’s collar and shook him. “I do have to admit, it’s nice to actually see you in person. Weasel was right. Are you wearing a polo under there? A tie? Which frat are you from?” He could hear Peter snorting in the background. 

“What the fuck did I ever do to you?” Richard asked, sitting up and rubbing his neck.

“You didn’t show up when I offered to trade a super awesome ray gun, hello? I have your number. Apparently your pal David gave you a heads up about me. Speaking of -” 

“Give me your gun.” Wade heard a  _ click! _ next to his temple, and a moment later David himself appeared. Well, that wasn’t quite right. Wade could see the man was wearing Peter’s face, but after a tense silence, the man ripped the mask from his face, letting it fall to the ground, leaving his own visage behind. “I said give it to me _._ " Wade considered his options, but finally relented, passing it over. David tossed it away, and a shot rang out, hitting the window on the other side of the lab. Richard flinched at the noise.

"Well, that's not safe," Wade mused.

"Shut the fuck up," David spat out, pressing the gun against Wade's head with increasing pressure.

“Holy shit,” Richard muttered. “Dude, calm down.”

“Calm down?” David spared a glance at the his partner in crime. “This is fucking  _ Deadpool  _ \- the mercenary that can’t die? He’ll skewer you in two seconds!” David jammed the butt of the gun harder against Wade’s head. 

“Doesn’t that mean it wouldn’t matter even if you do shoot him?” Peter asked. Wade winced; if the guy was smart he should have just tried to creep away, waved a flag to get Stark’s attention from the window. 

“Shut up.” David looked over at Peter. “You. It’s always you, huh?”

“I mean,” Peter started, “you’ve been stealing my face and doing a lot of illegal things. I think I’m allowed to get involved.”

“God, you’ve got a smartass comment for everything, don’t you? Trying to talk to me in those stupid training seminars we had - like, I get it, we all get it. You’re a genius, a real boy wonder.”

Wade was stuck with his back to Peter, but he could guess the man was trying to be placating. “Sorry, I - I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“‘Course you didn’t.” 

“Dave, man, you need to chill out. I thought you said this would be easy - in and out.”

“We’ve been sneaking into Stark’s labs for weeks and you thought it would be easy?” David asked, turning back to Richard. “Fucking idiot. I was the one who got us in and tricked Parker into showing us the ropes. You and Jason really thought we’d be famous from doing backflips and stopping some muggers? As if NYC doesn’t have super heroes coming out their ass…” 

Richard furrowed his eyebrows. Wade could see the way he was eyeing the gun David held. “So… this has all just been about the black market shit?” 

“Took you long enough. Yeah.” 

“Okay, loving the conversation here,” Wade said, straightening up, “But -”

“If I shoot you, you die. For however long, and sure, you won’t  _ stay  _ dead, but by the time you’re moving again, Parker will definitely get a shot of gamma to the face, and I’ll be gone. So stay. Still.”

Wade glanced at David’s face, saw about a zero percent chance that the guy was fucking around, and stayed still. Wade could see how Richard’s face went pale, eyes staring at David, then Wade, and then behind both men, looking at the door, maybe, a way out. But then Richard’s eyes flickered back and forth, like he was reading something. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see David was still trained on him, seeing if he would try anything. He was distracted.

Peter was telling Richard something.

And then, all of a sudden, David’s partner in crime started speaking up.

“Dave, uh, buddy, I just have to ask - when did this happen? Like, I get Jason and me aren’t as, uh, smart as you, and stuff, but I thought you just wanted to help people, get brand deals, you know?” He let out a nervous laugh. 

“Oh my God, Richard, just because you worked as an SI marketing intern for one summer doesn’t mean shit, okay? You pay like three times the price for an ounce as you should,  _ and  _ you eat smoothie bowls, okay? Smoothie bowls? That’s fucking embarrassing. Also, not sure if you noticed, but superheroes are fucking jacked. All of them. Even Spider-man. He has  _ my  _ body type and can still bench press a bus. We can’t do shit. But, you can do a  _ lot  _ if you know your way around a computer. SI is way too easy to move around in. Too trusting, you know? All you scientists, trying to do some common good, thinking you’re better than me-ACK!” Peter had slowly crept over to David while he was in rant mode, and grappled for the gun. Wade was about to jump into the fight, but despite their similar stature, Peter overpowered David rather easily, getting the gun out of his grip and sending it across the floor. 

“Uh, cool,” Richard said. “So, I’m just gonna -”

“Don’t move, business boy.” Wade stalked over to where the two men were playing a game of defense with each other, and grabbed David in a tight bear hug, keeping him stuck still. Peter gave him a thumbs up, walked over to the gun and picked it up. As he walked away, David’s wriggling persisted, and the man managed to find a spare knife and send it into the meat of Wade’s thigh.

“Ow! What the f- OW!” David bit at his fingers,  _ hard _ , and managed to duck out of Wade’s arms, backing himself up against the edge of the room, along the huge window. 

“David, wait -” Peter started to say, which was echoed by his friend’s “Hey man, hold on -”

“No! No no no - it’s not fucking fair. I deserved this. I was able to hack into the security systems and run shit through to so many dealers - that gun would’ve earned all of us a million  _ each,  _ Richard. We earned that money.”

“David, I’m sorry this happened,” Peter pressed, voice getting louder as he drew closer. “You just made a mistake - you don’t have to ruin your life because of a mistake.” 

“What he said,” Richard managed. “Listen to him, David, it’s over.”

David’s eyes went wider, head darting from Peter, to Wade, to Richard. “No, no. It’s over for you and Jason. I’m not about to spend the rest of my fucking life in jail, okay? There’s only one way out of this.” David’s face twisted; it was the sort of expression a person adopted when they knew a situation wasn’t going to end well for them. 

When they were convinced that there was only one way out. 

“It should’ve been  _ mine _ ,” he said, before he rammed himself backwards. The glass cracked, spintered, burst open, and he went with the broken shards, falling out of sight.

“No!” Peter ran forward, but of course he was too late to pull David back. Instead he stuck his hand on what was left of the glass pane, leaning as far forward as he could without losing his balance, and then ever farther than that. Wade couldn’t help but edge closer.

“Peter…” 

“I don’t see him down there,” he said in a rush. “Did Stark save him? Oh God…” 

“Peter, come back from the window, it’s not safe.”

“Not until I know  _ he’s  _ safe! He doesn’t deserve to die.” He leaned even  _ more  _ forward, craning his neck. “If I had never met him this wouldn’t have happened.”

[How is he doing that?]

{Strong, flexible, and super well-balanced?}

As Wade got closer, he could better focus on where Peter’s hand was on the glass, and from the clear pane, he spotted something… off.

The skin of Peter’s palm was  _ sticking  _ to the glass. Not from sweat or pressure, but something else. It actually looked like Peter was barely touching the glass, but invisible…  _ hairs? Tendrils? Something  _ was there that allowed him effortlessly cling to the window. 

{Now… who do we know who can do  _ that. _ }

“No,” Wade whispered. So softly that Peter either didn’t hear or he just didn’t bother to comment. At that moment, Iron Man rose up and flew through the window. He was carrying David in his arms. He looked dazed, but wasn’t fighting the hero’s hold on him. Wade could see Peter relax, and as he stepped back into the lab, his fingers slipped from the pane, not even leaving a mark behind to suggest he had been holding on. 

What was more likely, Wade thought frantically: A college student who was pals with Spider-man and was able to get his hands on private SHIELD files by himself; outsmart domestic terrorists; be totally unfazed by one of the most dangerous (ex) mercenaries in the western hemisphere and actually wanted a relationship with him, or…

Peter Parker was Spider-man all along, and he had been about ten steps ahead of Wade this whole time.

[Isn’t this Occam’s Razor?]

{The simplest explanation is usually the truth.}

For once, Wade was in agreement. He forced himself to take in what was happening - Stark was apologizing to Peter for assuming he was involved, and he was about to bring Richard and David into custody. He turned towards Wade.

“You did good work, Wilson,” Stark said. He had flipped his face plate up, and a hint of a smile was there. “I probably could’ve solved the problem sooner, but you’re not a bad guy to outsource to.”

“Happy to help,” Wade said. He knew Stark’s begrudging, not-quite-a-thank-you was actually a pretty big deal, considering the pair of them had never particularly gotten along, but he couldn’t manage any sort of joke or witty response, his brain too busy churning over the slowly dawning truth that Peter  _ was  _ Spider-man, that Peter had lied to him, over and over. “I uh, need to get going.”

Stark just gave him a look like he had been expecting more of a conversation, but just shrugged and said, “sure, I’ll get your money to you by the end of today.”

Wade nodded, and stepped over the rubble, towards the elevator. The propulsors on Iron Man’s suit sounded up again - taking the two men to the jail, or some secret dungeon in SI. Who knew, who cared. 

“Wade! Wait up!”

Wade almost certainly didn’t wait up, but Peter slid into the elevator before it began its descent, anyway. Peter was grinning up at him. “I can’t believe it’s over,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Stark even apologized to me! I didn’t think he was capable of that.” Peter reached forward, putting a hand on Wade’s bicep. “Thanks, Wade. For everything.”  

The only thing keeping him silent was the fact that Wade knew JARVIS was still listening in. That, and he was biting his tongue as hard as he could without actually severing it. 

The elevator dinged and he stalked out of it. If the guards had been apprehensive on his way up, they definitely weren’t getting involved on his way out. Even Peter had to half jog to keep up with the murderous pace he was setting. He ducked down a side street that wasn’t as busy, and still Peter kept talking.

“So, uh, did you still want to get some breakfast-brunch thing? Or did you want to change first, or -”

As quickly as he could, Wade drew one of his swords, spun on his heel, and tried to aim it at Peter’s throat.

The younger man had jumped back - farther and faster than a normal human ever could have. The few pedestrians around them gave them a wide berth, even after Wade sheathed his sword.

“Wade,” Peter muttered, hand at his uninjured throat “what are you  _ doing?  _ It’s me, Peter?”

“I know who you are. You’re Spider-man,” Wade said. Quiet enough that just the two of them would hear, but loud enough that something inside of him was slipping, coming loose. “You wouldn’t have survived just now if you hadn’t been.” 

“Y-You could’ve killed me!”

“From that? We both know your sixth sense super power would’ve kept you safe.” Wade edged forward. “I don’t know why you’re not running now. I imagine it’s screaming at you to get away.” 

Peter actually poked him in the chest and left his finger there. “You’re a better man now, Wade. You wouldn’t hurt me.” Peter held his gaze through the mask. Was this what Spider-man looked like every time the two of them had an argument? Every time the other man had ever tried to encourage Wade to be a hero, to be good? 

Wade shoved his shoulder, but Peter barely moved an inch. That display of strength was as much of an admission as he was going to get, apparently. “Why?” Wade asked. “Why didn’t you just - you could have told me so many times. You could have  _ texted  _ it to me. Sent a fucking letter. Oh my God.”

Peter’s face fell. “Wade, I’m sorry, it’s just -”

“No. Shut up. I  _ trusted  _ you. You as Peter and as Spider-man. And you…”

{Say something funny.}

[Say you’re never gonna dance again.]

{You’re rescinding your Spider-man fan club presidential title effective immediately.}

[And burning all the Spidey underwear.]

{Tell him he is going to have to buy us, like, so many tacos to make up for this.}

[I was half a virgin when I met you!]

Wade looked at the other man. “Fuck you.  _ Fuck you,  _ Peter,” the vehemency of the words made Peter flinch. “You only saw me as the bad guy, the fuck up. You never believed I was cleaning up my act, did you? I wasn’t  _ good  _ like you are, so you could justify everything you did to me. You could abuse my trust, lead me on a wild goose chase, lie through your teeth - and it was all okay, right? Because you’re the  _ hero. _ And I’m just  _ not.  _ Just wasn’t cut out for it, right?” Wade bit the inside of his cheek until the side of his face was radiating a hot pain, but it barely even registered. “You said - you  _ told  _ me that you could never fit in with the Avengers, but you’re just like them. You played me more than Stark ever could and I let you. Because I thought you were different. I thought the both of you were different. And the worst thing you did was let me believe it.” 

[...That wasn’t very funny.]

Peter’s mouth was twisted into a concerned frown. “Wade, it’s not - I mean, we - I didn’t mean for it to go this far, I swear.” 

Wade shook his head. “You know… everything about me. The things I told both of you in confidence and you just - you… You couldn’t tell me that  _ one  _ thing.”

“It - it’s a big thing,” Peter defended. 

“Did you not trust me?”

“No! I - I just…” Peter bit his lip, looking up at the other man. He reached a hand out. “Wade, please,”

Wade knocked his hand away. “No, you don’t get to gloss over this.You knew what you were doing the whole time and you still - this  _ whole  _ time, Peter.” He heaved a breath, but he couldn’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. He couldn’t look at the other man and remain calm.

“Wade,”

“No! No. Don’t touch me, don’t talk to me - delete my fucking number. Enjoy the rest of your life, being the goddamn hero. I’m done.” He backed up and started walking away.

“Wade, wait! You were doing so good, you can’t just -”

Wade’s shoulders drew up. “I can do anything I want,” he said. “You’re not my boyfriend, you are definitely  _ not  _ my friend. And in two hours we won’t even be in the same city anymore.” He looked over his shoulder. Peter had a hand reaching out towards him, but it was already falling, the man already admitting defeat.  “As of right now, I’m not your problem anymore. Congratulations.” 

This time, when he started moving again, Peter didn’t say a word. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just like in the MCU, my story's villains are really their internal conflicts :p
> 
> Hope you enjoyed :)


	9. There's Lots of F-Words

Wade couldn’t move.

That was a lie - he had moved plenty up until this point and he knew he’d have to move again. But for the last ten minutes, he was stuck where he was. Dopinder had dropped him off on the doorstep of the X-men mansion and driven off, and now, standing on the little step in front of the door was as far as he could make it. 

He hadn’t even knocked.

{You know what our super power is?}

[Running away?]

{I was going to say automatically improving a place just by leaving it.}

[Well, how would we know if it’s better? We’re gone.]

{Exactly.}

He kept staring at the glossy wood of the door, not sure whether to knock or back away slowly and go… back home? Or somewhere else entirely. Wade had the sneaking suspicion that pretty much everyone enjoyed themselves more if he was far, far away. But he didn’t  _ know  _ for sure. He definitely didn’t want to go back to NYC to find out. 

...He also wasn’t sure if he wanted to be here, either. 

But he also knew that he really, shouldn't be alone. Being alone was probably the main factor in how he landed himself in this mess in the first place; who knew how long it could be before he saw a random kiosk selling Spider-man gear and not want to tear it down in a fit of confusion, rage, and regret? 

Wade had evidently spent so long stewing in his own thoughts that someone had noticed he had shown up, and the door opened. Wade pulled himself together, standing with an easy slouch by the time he could see who was on the other side. 

“Hey it’s Furiosa!” Negasonic Teenage Warhead scowled at him and tried to slam the door in his face. Wade stuck his foot in the door and forced his way through. “Come on, you don’t miss me?”

“Not in the slightest.” She crossed her arms. “Why are you here?”

“What, I couldn’t visit my favorite rag tag group of mutants for no reason whatsoever?” He hefted the duffel bag he was carrying for emphasis. “Just lead me to the presidential suite, I need to freshen up. Getting out of the city was a _nightmare_ , but what else is new?” He let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Uh-huh. I feel like you have a habit of crashing here whenever something traumatic happens to you.” 

“Well  _ Colossus  _ dragged me here in a body bag last time, so that’s hardly my fault. Where is the big guy anyway?” The woman sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Stay here. I’ll go get him.” 

“Aye, aye, captain!” As soon as she stalked off, Wade welcomed himself into the foyer and immediately slunk away, creeping through the ornate halls of the X-mansion. There still didn’t seem to be anybody around, and after taking a few random turns, he didn’t stumble upon anything more exciting than a sitting room and an empty library. 

“Seriously, there’s not even a cleaning lady around?” He went down another wood paneled corridor. “I mean all the ornate fixtures and works of art are _dust magnets_ , just saying. Is everyone else just out on a mission? All the time? This place is a  _ school _ , too…” He stilled. The uncanny ability to summon things he mentioned in passing had just struck; he could now hear the far off sound of footsteps, getting louder with every passing second. It wasn’t just one set, either. It was a large group, all coming down a staircase he couldn’t yet see, but knew must be close.

Voices kicked up too; loud, raucous, not an indoor voice level at all. Kids. And over them he could now hear an adult saying something, probably repeating one of the billion rules the mansion had. 

[No telekinetic practice on the stairs.]

{No flying down the halls.}

[You can’t mind read to win at rock-paper-scissors.]

But because any super powered person seemed destined to be a smartass, Wade could make out another voice saying something, which garnered an uproar of laughter. And somewhere in there Wade swore he heard him - laughing with everyone else. 

But how did he know? He had never heard Russell laugh. 

He backtracked frantically, not wanting to meet the group as it drew closer to the ground floor. He wasn’t ready to go back to NYC - and he  _ definitely _ wasn’t ready to see the kid again.

Despite the long halls and random turns he had taken, it was easy enough to trace his steps back to the front of the house. The voices and steps faded eventually, their path branching off somewhere else, but Wade still didn’t slow down. 

Rounding a corner, he bumped straight into the wide metal chest of Colossus himself.

{Oh,  _ hello  _ there.}

“Wade! It is good to see you.” Colossus enveloped him in a friendly hug - Wade let himself be squeezed, his rib cage creaking ominously before he was let go. 

“I missed you too, buddy,” he said, trying not to wheeze. “And I’m not ashamed to say that I’m totally up for a rebound here.”  

“What happened? I thought you were working with the Avengers now.” Colossus clapped him on the back and led him up a grand stairway. He was clearly pleased that Wade was affiliated with a positive super-group, even if it wasn’t the one he had been trying to get Wade to join for the better part of them knowing each other.

[Are you allowed to only be a member of one at a time?]

{I thought it could be like a dual citizenship thing.}

“Yeah, it’s been fun, totally killing that no-killing rule all you superheroes are so into these days. But it just wasn’t the same, you know? For one thing, I don’t even live in the Avengers Tower, so that’s lame. Actually, I don’t know if anyone even does that - was that a canon thing? And I  _ know  _ they’re not using the velcro labels I made for them!”

“Are you sure you didn’t get kicked out of the Avengers for some shit you pulled?” Negasonic said, leaning on the railing of the first floor landing. Yukio stood by her side, her hair dyed baby blue on one side and lavender on the other. She gave him an enthusiastic wave.

“I’m still on the Avengers, okay?”

“Just as an affiliate,” Negasonic reminded him, “not a full-fledged member.”

Wade ignored her, opting to wave at Yukio instead. “Hi, Yukio!”

“Hi Wade.”

“At least someone’s glad to see me.”

“We are always glad to see you,” Colossus said, ignoring the minute shaking of Negasonic’s head. “But why  _ are  _ you here?”

Wade sighed. “Okay, I definitely don’t want to get into it because it involves another super and his civilian identity which I have to keep secret, obviously, so I can’t be too revealing, but did you know Spider-man likes dudes? And we are currently not on speaking terms?” 

Colossus was taken aback. “You and Spider-man?”

“Of course Spider-man likes dudes,” Negasonic said.

Wade stared at her. “How do you know that?”

Yukio shrugged. “We see him at the New York Pride Parade every year.” 

Wade rubbed his temples. “How did I  _ not  _ know this? Do I just spend every March under a rock?” 

“Pride month is in June, Wade,” Yukio said. 

Wade walked forward and booped her nose playfully. “No, Yukio, it’s  _ every  _ month. We have to celebrate who we are, 24/7/365.”

“So this… relationship with Spider-man didn’t work out?” Colossus added carefully, patting Wade on the back. “I’m very sorry to hear that. I always thought he was an admirable man.”

“Yeah, I... “ Wade started, then shook his head. “He also knows where I live, and I have the sick feeling he’s going to do something righteous like he always does. Like… appear in one of my windows one day to try and apologize, and we can’t have that, so is there a flat surface I can go mope on for a few days? I need a place to be inconsolable where he won’t bother me.” The three X-men stared at each other. Colossus nodded at Negasonic, and she sighed. 

“Sure, come on.” He was led further up the stairs, down a hall, up another two flights of stairs, left, right, left, and then to a door. Wade opened it and flicked on the light. A large bedroom, default fancy mansion decorations. Nice and tidy. He whistled and dumped his bag on the floor.

“The rules are the same as all the other times you've crashed here,” she drawled from the doorway.. “No killing, label everything in the fridge, don’t bother the kids during lessons, don’t bother any of the adults during training…” Wade tuned her out and walked to the windows, parting the sheer curtains. It was a view of the back lawn; the grass was brown and dead, but the day was bright. A large group of kids were out there, running around like some sort of makeshift recess was going on.

“Ellie,” Wade muttered. Negasonic stopped reciting rules or roasting him or vaguely threatening him or whatever she had been doing. “How is he?”

He heard her boots thud along the floor until she stood next to him at the window.

“He’s doing better. Grades are good, has friends to hang out with, hasn’t tried to run off or burn anything to a crisp outside of the training rooms.” Wade nodded. “Him and the other kids we took in needed a lot of therapy - still do. He isn’t the only one with anger issues to work through. Getting better control of his powers, at least. Might even become a trainee himself once he’s old enough.”

“Think he’ll be any good?”

“I know he’s going to be better than you ever were.”

Wade couldn’t help but smile. “Well, that’s a pretty low bar.” 

“He asks about you sometimes, you know,” she added. “I think he thought after everything that you would…” She tipped her head to the side, “you know.”

“Yeah. I know. It would have been. Great. Really great, but it -” He sighed. “I can’t do that for him. Not exactly the best track record I’m working with here for, you know. Legitimate lines of work, solving issues without violence, being mentally stable, and I wouldn't even  _ know  _ how to start on The Talk with him, so.” 

“Oh my God. Alright, whatever. I’ll leave you to your moping, then.” Negasonic moved away from the window.

“Hey, wait, can you just -” Wade went back to the bed and zipped open his bag, rifling through it. “Give these to him?” He tossed her a thin box. “Figured he could use some new shades. I’m _pretty_ sure his last pair didn’t survive the third act fight, so uh. Just say they came in the mail from me, okay?” Negasonic examined the box, opening up the case, then looked back at him. “Please?” 

“Fine.” She grabbed the handle to the bedroom door. “But you can’t keep dodging him forever. Or else he’s going to get tired of waiting, think you just aren’t worth the time. Just saying.” She shut the door, steps thudding on the carpeted hallways before fading away. 

“I hate it when she’s right,” he muttered, falling onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. His thoughts had been on Peter all day - thinking of Russell made most of the anger, confusion, hints of what could have been regret, fade away. 

People liked to guess at the reason why he went legit, and Wade didn’t mind playing along with whatever ideas people tossed out: He just felt like it; he was doing it for a bet; he had a religious epiphany; he wanted his superhero crushes to like him back. 

He’d be lying if there weren’t a handful of motivations behind his attempt to be better - people did tend to like heroes more than villains, for one, and you could usually get away with more shit if you had the positive reputation to back you up, but really? Wade just knew he couldn’t convince a scared, abused kid with destructive powers and a chip on his shoulder that killing was wrong - that one act of violence would culminate in the death of thousands of innocent lives in the future - and not at least try to abstain from killing himself. 

Wade wanted to be better for a lot of reasons - most of them? Probably selfish. Definitely not the vision of altruism that some heroes touted so effortlessly. But he also wanted to better for Russell, for _anyone_ like Russell. And he was getting better. He just - wasn’t there yet. Maybe he could be before the kid forgot about him completely. 

 

-

 

When Wade said he needed a flat surface to mope on for a few days, he hadn’t been kidding. Aside from the journey he took into the kitchen - or more often than not, calling for Colossus to bring him something from the kitchen, that metal man was  _ too  _ nice for his own good sometimes - he was content to sniffle into his borrowed Egyptian cotton bed sheets while watching Julia Roberts movies.

Just as Julia Roberts came to the conclusion that she would find fulfillment by travelling across the globe and eating, praying, and loving as she did so, there was a knock on the door. He groaned.

“What is it?” 

“Wade, someone is here to see you,” Colossus’ voice came through the door. Wade immediately stilled. 

“Not interested,” he fired back, even as he sat up in bed, kicking some of crap that had accrued in his room under the bed. He looked around for his mask, couldn’t find it, and pulled the hood up on the sweatshirt he was wearing. 

“He says he needs to see you,” Colossus protested. “He doesn’t want to leave without talking to you.” Wade swallowed, swinging his legs off the bed and stumbling to the door, wishing he could see to the other side of it. He pressed his ear against the wood, but couldn’t hear anything. “You’ve been stuck in there for three days, Wade. If you won’t open this door, I will open it myself.”

Sucking in a breath, Wade forced his hand to the doorknob, twisting it “Fine, fine, let’s get this over w- oh. It’s you.” Wade leaned against the door frame. “...This is kind of coming out of left field.”

Cable raised an eyebrow. “Well. Sorry to inconvenience you.” 

“You don’t look very sorry.” Cable just gave him a small smile with a metric fuckton of smugness packed into it. “So… what is it? Is there another child you’re trying to murder?” Cable sent an unimpressed look up to the ceiling. “Hey! You can’t roll your eyes at me - you tried to kill a fourteen year old like, last year.” 

“I have a mission,” Cable explained, his one iota of patience already spent. “Something that might be able to help me get back home. There are risks, so I need someone who can’t die easily.” He looked at Wade pointedly.

[At least he’s honest.]

“And why should I help you? I mean, aside from the fact that you saving me is what stranded you here in the first place.” Cable peered into the room Wade was in.

“Exercise does tend to help alleviate depression.”

“I’m  _ not  _ depressed. I’m just,” Wade glanced over his shoulder, back into the dreary room that had its curtains drawn, and various take out boxes and beer bottles laying around. “...Having me time.” 

Colossus and Cable didn’t look impressed with his answer. He threw his hands up. “Fine! Fine! I’ll meet you out front in five minutes. Jesus.” 

 

-

 

“So,” Wade said, after the jet that Cable had  _ somehow  _ managed to charter at some point took off, and they were rapidly soaring towards the eastern border of the United States, “what’s the plan here?”

“Small island in the Indian Ocean,” Cable explained. He was sitting in the pilot’s chair, but wasn’t doing much to actually fly the thing - though Wade had the suspicion he was using his powers as a technology whisperer to do it all hands-free. “I can't slide through time without a charge to my device. Your tech here is too low grade for me to actually use, but I managed to create a scanner to find large energy sources that give off similar enough readings to what we use in the future, see if I could use that to fix this," He adjusted the bulky time travelling device on his wrist. "Some scientists from Mumbai landed on something… promising.” 

“So what do you guys use in the future? Wind? Solar? Corn syrup?”

“It’s a mix of things - not corn syrup,” Cable said. “This is a man-made radioactive isotope. It’s called lunarium. It doesn’t give off the same levels of radiation as plutonium, but it’s still highly unstable. Very unique.”

“And that’s… a good thing?”

“For me, it is. I might be able to use it to fix this, or at least modify it to let me teleport. It would make getting around a lot less of a pain.” 

“So this is gonna be like, a sneaky, Solid Snake sort of mission? Keep it on the D-L and everything?” Wade leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “That’s cool. I can do that. I’m kind of on a murder diet right now. Trying the whole no-killing thing, it’s all the rage.”

“So I’ve heard.” Cable didn’t say anything else, and Wade counted a full sixty seconds just to account for a pause of contemplation. But still, Cable didn’t say anything.

“Uh, how long is this flight?”   


“Another three hours.”

“Right. Right. Awesome. Fastest flight ever. Just the two of us - in silence.”

“Right.” Cable turned back around. 

“...You got any movies on here, or -”

“No.” 

“Cool.” Wade shifted in his seat. “Just a relaxing flight with no entertainment or stimulation whatsoever. Love it.”

[Can we say it?]

{It’s been like half a week. We’re still angry.}

[I know, but - Peter always had something to say.]

Wade groaned. 

{No! Peter  _ and  _ Spider-man are totally on the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named list now!}

[Are we forgetting the multiple times Cable tried to kill us? We can ignore that to go on an adventure with him?]

{We never had that sort of relationship with Cable.}

[Well…]

“Oh my God,” Wade muttered, running his hands over his face.

[I’m just saying - there’s something about Short, White, and Grumpy over there. Or even the comics version. That guy was  _ massive.  _ I bet he could -]

“So!” Wade clapped his hands. “Since we’re stuck here together,” he heard Cable sigh, “and you  _ don’t  _ want to leave me alone with my thoughts, I have to ask - what have you been up to for the last year. Super productive? Hitting everything on your resolution list?”

“I’ve been killing a lot of people,” Cable said mildly. “Unlike some of us.”

“Hey, don’t mercy-shame me. Every murderer, bank robber, and terrorist probably have families that they aren’t estranged from and don’t horribly abuse too, you know.” 

“Well, you sound utterly convinced. Glad whatever 12-step program you’re on has been working for you.” 

Another beat.

“You said you were something like a soldier, back home,” Wade said, crossing his arms. He tapped his foot, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, crossed them a different way. “Were you… a good guy?”

Cable shrugged. “I suppose most people would see me as someone who could protect them. Stopped the end of the world once or twice - have a feeling I’ll do it again. Doesn’t mean I do the right thing every time. But I don’t think anyone can. Maybe you save someone today, and they die tomorrow in an even worse way. Or you thought you were putting a bad guy away, and it just motivates him to seek world domination when all he really wanted to do was bust open some ATMs.”

“Very big picture sort of guy, got it.” 

“Since I’m stuck here for who knows how long, I wanted to do what I could to help improve my future, whenever I can go back. Unfortunately, it’s difficult to know what changes I make will end up improving things, or making the world even worse, if I can’t actually get a glimpse into the future after a potentially catastrophic event.” 

“But you're killing people anyways." Another shrug.

"I take my chances." As usual, Cable let his answer just hang in the air between them. 

“Cool, that’s - that’s fine. Are they -”

“They’re adults,” Cable clarified. He could be lying - maybe he was. Wade didn’t want to think about it. “And they’re bad people. Even now, you can see what would be the beginnings of a tyrant in them. Wealth and power distorts everything it touches - these people are so above it all they don’t consider human beings as real, living creatures they should sympathize with. In a way I wish they _were_ kids - you were right, Wade, as much as I’m loathe to admit it. You can change some people. But once they get older… that chance grows slimmer and slimmer.” 

Wade felt his stomach clench. He looked down at his feet. “Right - yeah. Some people just, uh. Can’t do it.” He let out a nervous laugh. “Well, that was just enlightening. What else should we -”

“The talking is done now,” Cable said. “If you need to have an argument with yourself let me know so I can wear some headphones to block it out.”

Wade bit his lip. “Right,” he mumbled. “Good talk.”

 

-

 

They ended up making a rough landing not far from the water, and hiking to the lab the rest of the way. “This place is already isolated, so their security isn’t crazy,” Cable said. “We should be able to get in and get out. Maybe a few guards and scientists incapacitated. Think you can handle that?” 

“Yes, I’ll Vulcan nerve pinch them all into submission,” Wade grumbled, moving aside a low hanging branch. He let Cable take the lead - it was extremely late at night, the grounds were dark, and most of the lights around the outside of the laboratory weren’t that bright, allowing the two of them to sneak through the shadows. They did have to knock out a few guards and drag them into a storage closet, but Cable was able to make the security cameras malfunction, and from there gained access to a map of the labs. 

“This way,” he said, charging forward. “We have ten minutes before anyone gets suspicious. Maybe fifteen if the guards were as unobservant as those four back there.” Wade kept pace with the other man as they traversed the seemingly endless corridors.

{It’s not like he’s eight feet, so it’s really not that difficult.}

[He’s an aggressive walker, though.]

Cable abruptly stopped at a door and stared down at the small card reader. Wade was sure more of that technology-magic was happening; a moment later the door’s magnetic lock retracted, and Cable opened the door. “You know,” he said dryly, “I’m starting to think you only brought me to pick up all the highly dangerous radioactive materials and literally nothing else.”

“Really? I thought you would have caught on as soon as I told you the plan.” Cable looked around the room and nodded towards a few metal canisters. “They’re over there.” 

Wade edged towards the canisters. They were about as wide as his forearm, matching cylinders with various warnings labeled over them. He grabbed one and turned around. Cable had taken that device from his wrist, and had opened up the back of it. He plucked out something that looked like an igneous rock; shiny and black. He pocketed it. “Open the canister,” Cable instructed, “And place a small isotope into the compartment here.” He pointed. “Then close it back up.” Saying that, Cable immediately walked to the far side of the room. 

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Wade said, unlocking the canister. A smaller container popped open with a hiss, showing a bunch of glowing, aquamarine colored rocks. He reached in to grab one. “Don’t know why you need me to -  _ ow! _ ” He pulled his hand back. The leather on his thumb and forefinger were singed - no. They were  _ burnt  _ into his skin. The pain made him double over for a second, and he was debating if it would be better to cut off both digits and let them regenerate instead of having them heal. 

Slowly, the skin mended itself, and the pain faded with it. Wade glared at Cable. “What was  _ that?” _

“I said it wasn’t as destructive. But it’s extremely corrosive to skin - and close exposure can cause radiation poisoning in a matter of minutes.

“Jesus Christ. This is why you’re not a member of X-force!” He looked at the table. “Is metal fine?”

“Should last longer than skin.”

“Great. Well, time for a little experiment.” Wade poured a few of the rocks onto the table, and they held just fine. “Okay. Uh…” He went over to a nearby work desk, started opening drawers.

“We don’t have all day.”

“Shut up - I’m  _ not  _ touching that shit again. Here.” He held up a pair of tweezers. Walking back to the table, he was able to drop the isotope into Cable’s device. The watch-like interface glowed brighter for a moment, before dimming. Wade shut the panel and returned it to Cable. “Don’t know how you’re not going to get bone cancer in that wrist.”

“The entire body of the watch is made with lead. I’ll be fine. Hopefully your healing factor kicks in before  _ you  _ start glowing.”

“Very funny. Can we leave now?” 

“I need to calibrate a few things. Get me a few canisters of isotopes, and then we can go.”  Wade trudged back to the open canister, picking it up as he made his way to the rest of them. 

Above them, the lights flickered, the filament of the lights creating a low buzzing that only grew louder. Then they burst, one at a time, until the lab was plunged into darkness - save for the blue glow of the isotopes. 

“Was this lab built on a burial ground?” Wade whispered.

“Shh. I hear something.” 

Wade watched the door - though he couldn’t make out much in the way of details. He could hear the building groan and creak, as though it were an old, decrepit house instead of a new facility reinforced with metal and concrete.

The door to the lab jiggled; whoever was on the other side was stopped by the lock. Wade glanced over at Cable. The man’s glowing eye seemed to be enough to guide him as he tinkered with the device. He crept over to where the other man was working and waited. 

“Almost got it,” Cable whispered. 

Then that creaking started again. Like an old wooden board being walked on. Wade squinted, and he could see that the door was… changing. The glossy metal looked darker, and Wade would have even described it as rusted, if he had a better light source on him.

More noises from outside, and then - the door slowly swung open. 

Something stepped into the lab. 

Wade could only say  _ something,  _ because even though it had roughly the same build as a human, it looked more like… a condensed smoke cloud. Dark gray with a lack of structure to its body. It shifted, and Wade could also make out two glowing orbs that seemed to be eyes.

It was staring right at him.

“Um,” Wade whispered, “can we go _now_?”

“I need another minute.” 

The thing began walking towards their side of the lab.

“Don’t think we have a minute.”

“Distract it, then!”

Wade shoved the canisters under one arm and pulled out his gun. Wade clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger. 

Nothing. 

Wade clicked again. Still nothing. 

[Is the gun jammed?]

{We just cleaned it!}

[Is this thing stupidly lucky like Domino?] 

Grimacing, Wade shoved his gun back into its holster - the movement made some of the canisters shift in his grip. He glanced down at them. Well, there was an idea.

“Okay, you walking vape cloud,” Wade said, shaking the canister that was already open, “I don’t know if you can understand me, but hopefully your species has some sensitivity to shit that can give you super cancer. So stay back!” The creature was still slowly walking towards him, so with a shrug, Wade emptied the container and showered the tiled floor with the small pieces of lunarium.

The creature paused, its glowing eyes now focused on the floor. 

It bent over, a hand reaching out towards one of the pieces. 

“That’s a highly unstable lunarium isotope,” Cable warned. “You can’t -” The thing picked it up, and squeezed the piece of lunarium in his hand. And it -

Absorbed.

Into its skin. 

Wade took a step back. “What the fuck?”

The other pieces of lunarium rattled along the floor, sliding towards the creature and disappearing into its form. Its eyes glowed even brighter than before, its mass starting to stretch and grow into something larger. 

The creature's eyes were on Wade again, and now its steps were faster, more deliberate.

Wade looked over his shoulder. “Uh, Cable -”

“Get down!” Cable hissed, tugging the both of them to the floor. The other canister's in Wade's grip slipped away, aside from one now pressed between the both of them.

“What are you doing? He’s going to kill us or - something!”

“Not if I can help it. Grab on.” 

“To  _ what?? _ ” Wade asked, arms going tight around the other man’s waist. Cable twisted the machine on his wrist and slammed the button down before the creature could close in on them. Wade held on tight; it felt like his entire body had been sucked into a wormhole, limbs being stretched out and mashed back together again. 

The sensation lasted just for a moment, and yet it was entirely too long. He opened his eyes and grunted, rolling to the side. “Ugh. I felt like I just spent the last week in a coma.” Cable got to his feet.

“You get used to it,” he said. “I didn’t have time to stabilize this as a transporter, but it looks like everything...” Wade could hear the whirring of Cable’s fancy-ass watch. “ _ What the hell? _ ” 

“Oh, that’s a good sign,” Wade said, staring blankly at the sky.

“My device is saying we were transported spatially as well as through time. That wasn’t supposed to happen. It  _ can’t  _ happen with the amount of power I had.” 

“What year is it, then?”

“Still the same year. According to the readings, which I don’t know if I can trust, about a month into the future.”

“A whole month?” Wade sat up, pawing at his pouches until he pulled out his phone. He swiped away the various notifications, deliberately not staring at the names attached, and looked at the date. They were now far into December. “At least my rent is set to auto-pay. I think.” He looked around. “Where are we, anyway?”

“I moved us to the opposite side of the globe, pretty much. I have no idea what that thing is, but it has a shit ton of area to get through before it can get to us.” Cable was still glaring at the device on his wrist.

“Shouldn't we go back and fight it?” Wade sat up, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. The remaining canister of lunarium rolled with his movement.

“If a weird creature that can absorb radiation caused the downfall of human civilization, I would’ve known about it. Best to leave it alone for now until I get more information on what it can do.” The statement sat uncomfortably in the pit of Wade’s stomach. Cable scooped up the canister and strapped it to his back, next to the rifle he carried. “That creature probably absorbed the rest of those isotopes - I'm not about to waste the last of the lunarium we have trying to fight something we know nothing about."

“Right. Okay.” Wade got to his feet, and realized they were on the roof of a building. Stepping closer to the edge, he realized it was a skyscraper. And - glancing all the way down and spotting the grid pattern of the streets and the collection of yellow cabs, he realized he was back in New York. He groaned. “Fucking great. You couldn’t make that machine send us to, I don’t know - Boston? Chicago? I’d take fucking Philly, even.”

“Not a fan of New York?” 

“It’s not New York I have a problem with. Just, some people in it.” 

“Heroes?”

“Sure.” Cable made a note of interest and Wade whirled around, glaring at the man. “ _ What? _ ”

“You’re not one to actively withhold information,” Cable said. “I might actually be curious.” 

“Just find a way off this fucking roof before I take a leap of faith.” 

“Right. Well -” A sickening crash sounded as a large, hulking mass of  _ something  _ crashed into the building opposite them. Wade could already see a collection of heroes trying to take the monster down, with little success. 

"Oh my God. I can't deal with this right now," Wade groaned.

“Looks like they need some help,” Cable prompted.

Wade caught Iron Man soaring by. He was carrying Captain America towards the creature’s head, and the tell-tale roar of the Hulk sounded from ground-level. Small explosions were landing across the creature's flank from what Wade assumed was a mix of gunfire and arrows, and like clock-work, Spider-man himself rounded the edge of the building on a thread-thin line of webbing. 

Wade took a step back from the ledge. “They’re fine. It’s just attack-of-the-hundred-and-fifty-foot-whatever. They can handle it.”

“You’re a hero now, remember?” Cable said. “I think that means you’ve gotta help.” Wade turned to glare at the other man, then looked back at the property destruction case below. The monster had pulled itself out of the building and was now swiping at all the heroes it could see. It batted away the Hulk with sickening ease. 

Wade’s shoulders slumped. 

“Okay. Fine. I’ll help.” He pointed back at Cable. “You better cover me.”

“I’ll do what I can.”

Wade nodded, and stepped to the edge of the building. He stretched his arms, rotated his head until his neck popped, shook out his legs. 

He took out both of his katanas, and paused.

“You know, on second thought -” Cable pushed him, and he was sent careening down towards the side of the rampaging monster, trying and failing not to scream. 

[Do we still like him better than Peter?]

{...No.}

_ That's one thing we can all agree on,  _ Wade thought. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had intended from the beginning for this fic to more or less follow the DP movies as the main canon events of Wade's character (plus some other stuff in certain comics). I had hoped because everyone got that impression from previous chapters, having Russell mentioned here wouldn't be too much of a surprise, but who knows? This is why it is advised to write everything before you publish it. 
> 
> Also, how do people feel about Cable? I was unsure how much of his movie canon to use just because it is *so* different than the comics, but I haven't read many of his comics and his character history is all over the place, since time travelling is one of his things. 
> 
> Lastly, this chapter is what is known as 'sequel bait'. Make of that what you will.


	10. The Only One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wanna keep in touch, feel free to follow me on tumblr and twitter - my username for both is schmuzz1

Wade’s swords sank into the flank of the rampaging beast, keeping him from splattering to the asphalt below. He would have turned and shouted something that was both funny and belied his hurt at the fact that Cable pushed him off a fucking building, but he just  _ knew  _ that asshole would shrug and remark that Wade would have turned out fine either way, so it didn’t matter. 

There was also the fact that burying two blades into the monster made it let out a thunderous roar, and it began to thrash wildly to get the threat off its back. The fur of the thing wasn’t as soft as Wade had been hoping, so even the sensation of bristles against his skin was painful, a few digging into his suit and skin. It was all Wade could do to hold on. 

“Deadpool?” Looking up, Captain America - who had landed somewhere near the thing’s head last Wade checked - was above him, gripping some strands of fur for balance and reaching a hand out to Wade.

Wade took it, and was hauled up onto the creature’s back, where staying balanced was somewhat easier. He managed to grab his swords and pull them out of the monster’s flesh before Cap hauled him up towards its head with a quick, “glad you could make it,” thrown over his shoulder.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world! Whatever  _ this  _ is. Seriously - what is this thing? It’s like a porcupine and a kangaroo had a disturbingly jacked and prickly creature together.”

“Remember that alien with the robot army?” 

Wade squinted. “The one with the fucked up ray gun that you took so it couldn’t cause more trouble?”

“Well, it caused more trouble. Harvester’s still in prison, for now, but she had said she had a friend who was going to ‘pick her up.’” 

“A friend.” Cap gestured to the gargantuan beast they were currently riding. “Nice friend.” The monster leapt into the air and both of them staggered, clinging onto the needle-like strands of fur desperately until it settled again.

“I’m surprised Spider-man didn’t tell you. He foiled her last break out attempt, and that’s when she told him about this guy dropping in to get her  _ and  _ the gun.” Wade winced.

“Yeah, I’ve been, uh, doing some other stuff. Hanging out with some mutants - oh! I was just on a mission with a jacked soldier not from this time period with a metal arm who I also have varying levels of unresolved sexual tension with.” Cap stared at him. “That’s called twinning. Put that in your little modern facts notebook you carry around with you.” 

“How did you -” Cap shook his head. “Never mind.” The hero turned back around and made his way back to the creature’s skull. It looked like the all-American beefcake had landed with his shield submerged halfway into the monster’s skull. He was actually struggling to pull it out. 

“My strength stats are kind of a crapshoot,” Wade said, stumbling up beside him, “but maybe I can help?” He grabbed the edge of the shield that Cap wasn’t already holding onto.

“Be my guest,” the other man said.

The creature’s skull was obviously thick, it took a good few seconds of pulling before the shield was finally released. Rogers grimaced at the blood at the edge of it reluctantly strapped it onto his back. “So, what’s the plan now?” Wade asked. 

“Nothing is actually subduing this guy. Not even a giant metal disc shoved into its brain,” he said with a grimace. “I’m telling Tony to come get you; apparently he has some new bomb that might be able to fix this mess without causing another billion dollars in property damage.”

“Oh, cool.” Wade shielded one hand over his eyes to look around. “So, do I whistle, or - EEP!” Stark passed by and had grabbed him by the elbow, letting him dangle in his metallic grip before letting Wade go so he could stumble to the ground. Stark landed much more gracefully across from him. “Don’t  _ do  _ that!” Wade hissed, popping his shoulder back into its socket. 

“Nice of you to show up.”

“I don’t have a pager or bluetooth headset or whatever the fuck you use to communicate with each other,” Wade snapped. “Also I was busy.” 

“No, I mean it  _ is  _ nice of you to show up. Is everything that comes through the mask read as sarcasm?”

“I think that’s just your mouth,” Wade shot back, but the heat wasn’t in it. “Cap said this is a friend of that alien bounty hunter who wants me dead?”

“Don’t take it personal. She and her pet abomination want half this city dead, too. It’s all we can do to stop this thing from getting to the prison, and we’re losing ground. Luckily for everyone involved, I have a solution.” 

There was a pause. Wade stared at Stark. Stark, presumably, stared back. “...Did I need to guess?”

Stark sighed, and tapped the side of his helmet. “That’s your cue.” A moment later, he turned around and caught a falling, black orb that had been launched his way. “Thanks, Nat.” He brandished the object to Wade. “This is what I’m talking about.”

“...You’re gonna make it play fetch.”

“It’s a bomb.”

“Right.” 

“We need someone to toss it into that thing’s mouth.” 

Wade sighed. “Let me guess - someone who will live even after getting blown into a mound of blood and ash, right?”

“Wh - that’s how extensive your healing factor is?” Wade shrugged. “Well. No - this isn’t a typical bomb. But I can do the grand reveal  _ after  _ this creature is gone. Watch and learn. Actually, this is still highly experimental, so watch while moving as far away as possible.” With that, Stark jetted up into the air again.

“Oh, I’m watching,” he said dully. The creature was still on a rampage, but the bullets and explosions that were hitting it was making it angry enough to try and find the source of the ballistics, so it wasn’t actually moving down the street that quickly. That also meant it was an easy target for Stark, who flew up next to the creature’s face, keeping just enough distance that the thing’s arms couldn’t swipe at him. 

Wade was set for a gruesome display of pyrotechnics that would most likely result in a desperate need for a shower, until the Hulk made a dramatic reappearance, crashing down from a building and smacking the monster into the pavement.

The motion sent Cap off the monster’s head and flying, landing right into Stark, who fumbled, the bomb dropping out of his grip as he tried to grab ahold of Cap and stop him from falling to his death. “That’s bad, right?” 

{Yeah.}

[Probably.]

The bomb, luckily, didn’t make its deadly trip to the ground, being intercepted by Spider-man at the last second. He swooped up into the air again and stuck to the wall of a damaged skyscraper where Stark was awkwardly holding onto Rogers. It looked like the three of them had stopped to have a chat.

During what had to be a witty exchange, the monster rose up from its temporary lie down, batting the Hulk away once again and swiping at the three heroes with another ferocious cry. They were all thrown towards the opposite end of the street, near Wade. Spider-man used his momentum to web an exposed piece of a girder and swing around it before landing neatly on the pavement. Stark and Cap weren’t so lucky, however, Stark was only just able to use his propulsors to stop the two of them from crashing into the building, instead just hitting it roughly. 

Of course, the heat of the propulsors heated the already damaged support of the building, and a few support beams and attached concrete subsequently rained down on them as they were forced down onto the ground by the hail of debris.

“You guys okay?” Wade yelled. Rogers pushed a slab of metal off of him, Stark rolled over in his suit, climbing out of the construction materials. 

“Totally fine!” Cap said, swaying on his feet as he stood. There was blood trickling down his face. He gave Wade a thumbs up anyway. 

“Yeah, totally fine,” Stark added, “that’s barely a concussion.” He began to fly into the air again - but the propulsors on the right side of his body shorted out, causing him to crumple back onto the ground. “...Alright, it’s ground duty for me.” He regained his balance and looked over in Wade’s direction. “If you wanted to have a turn taking down King Kong over there, now would be a great time.”

“Distract a giant monster that thinks the Hulk is about as annoying as a fussy cat, sure,” Wade said. “I can totally do -” He turned around. “...That.”

“Um.” Spider-man was holding the bomb in his hands. “Hi.”

[Fuck.]

{Shit.}

[Fucking shit.]

“It’s uh - I was gonna say it’s good to see you,” the other man said, “but obviously these aren’t ideal circumstances and everything so. Yeah.” Wade tilted his head slightly. Spider-man shifted his weight from foot to foot. “But hi, anyways,” he added.

{Are we still mad at him? It’s been a month.}

[For  _ him  _ and everyone else, not for  _ us. _ ]

{Should we try being funny?} 

[Hit him with that patented DP charm?]

“Hi,” Wade managed. The monster roared above them. “Stark says we need to throw that,” he pointed, “into that thing’s mouth.” 

“Right.”

“And I don’t currently have the ability to fly, scale walls, or float.”

“Uh, right.”

“And I imagine you’d probably have trouble swinging around and avoiding that frankly disturbing creature and tossing the bomb into its mouth. So.” He sighed. “Wanna team up?”

“S-sure. Sure! Yeah. That’s - I can do that. We can do that I mean,” He nodded. “Yeah.” 

Wade held out his hand. Spider-man tucked the explosive under his arm, reaching his own hand out to meet Wade’s.

Wade pulled back. “Give me the bomb,” he clarified. Spidey’s hand drooped.

[Wow. Harsh.]

{That was a curve if I ever saw one.}

“Right. Uh. Here.” The other man passed the bomb over. It was about the size of Wade’s palm, so he was able to shove it into one of his pouches for safe keeping.

“Okay. Ready when you are.” 

“Right - right, yeah. So, uh. How do you want to do this, exactly?” Wade couldn’t help but wonder where this level of restraint was  _ before  _ Spider-man-as-Peter decided to get involved with him, but Wade didn’t feel like actually voicing it aloud. He just wanted to finish this up and go - somewhere. Anywhere. 

Away from this one guy in particular. 

The one he had idolized, pined for, befriended, which, really, was too much to put into one person who couldn’t extend the same amount of trust and affection back. Who may have  _ never  _ given it back, even if Wade hadn’t realized the truth. 

“Hey!” Wade turned his head. Stark waved his arm. “Whatever weird thing you two have going on - monster attack, here? Maybe hurry it up?”

“Got it!” Wade shouted. He moved past Spider-man and started stalking down the block, where the creature was crashing against the buildings. “Think you can get us up there?” he asked from over his shoulder. 

“No problem!” And finally, Wade saw a web shoot out and stick to the side of a skyscraper, and a moment later he was taken into the air, Spider-man’s hand holding onto his katana holsters. Not the most comfortable way to be carried, but even Wade had to begrudgingly admit it was nicer than getting pushed off a roof or being grabbed so harshly that his shoulder popped out.

[Our bar is so low.]

{I don’t think we even have a bar, to be honest.}

“Look out!” Spidey swung them wide, dropping through the air to avoid a piece of building the spiky kangaroo thing had ripped off and threw at them. “Ugh. I hate giant monsters.”

“What are you talking about?” Wade shouted so he could be heard over the rush of air, “giant monsters were the first NYC bad guy! This is like a legacy battle.”

“Legacy as in it’s old. Pastiche. Totally cliche.”

“You kids these days just can’t appreciate something classic. I bet you won’t watch any movie if it’s still in black and white.”

“Oh my God,” Spider-man said, swinging them higher into the air. Wade could tell from the way that he said it he was amused, not exasperated. He also kind of hated that he knew that. “I’m just saying some more thought could be put into the designs. This thing looks like a giant marsupial with spines for fur.” 

“What do you want, Freudian levels of psycho analysis for every guy you beat up?”

“Well, that would at least be interest-ING!” The monster batted them into the side of a building, sending them through the window and into an abandoned office. They both groaned, staring out the broken glass as they tried to get up. Through the settling dust, Wade saw that the monster had collected a torn up piece of road and was trying to throw it into the hole they had been forced into. 

“You can stop that, right?” Wade coughed out, kicking away some shattered glass and computer monitors that had landed on him.

“Probably not. Back up, back up!” 

The monster’s arm was drawn back, about to strike - until it was hit in its eye with a bright, aquamarine colored blast, making it drop the mound of concrete as it shrieked in agony. Wade sat up and made his way to the hole in the building. Across the street, he saw a familiar shadow on a rooftop, massive rifle slung over his shoulder. “Perfect timing,” Wade murmured.

Unlike the explosive arrows and more typical gun fire that had been hitting the creature for most of the fight, this staggered the thing long enough for Spider-man to grab Wade’s waist as he dove out the window, a web slung out just in time to save them from both the monster and a hundred foot drop. He deposited them both onto a small alcove near the top of yet another decimated building that was more of a concrete skeleton than anything else. 

[Nothing like a blast of radiation to magically fix things!] 

“What was that?” Spider-man asked. The monster was still writhing in pain on the ground below.

“Friend of mine. Has the biggest,  _ coolest  _ gun ever that he won’t let me touch no matter how many times I beg him.” He blinked. “That is exactly what it sounds like.” He could feel the other man’s eyes on him for a beat.

“...Well it distracted big and spiky. I can swing us around and -” With a deafening screech, the monster began to… transform. 

It  _ looked  _ as if it was turning inside out, its mouth opening like a flower to show endless rows of teeth and a gaping maw. The sharp hairs on its back also stuck up, looking more like needles than ever before. The noises it let out shook the foundation of the building, and Wade had to consciously balance himself on the precipice of the metal he was standing on. The sound of a thousand teeth clicking as it snapped its jaw made his hackles involuntarily rise. 

“...Damnit,” Spider-man whispered to himself.

“Gross,” Wade said, “I thought that radiation would just give it super cancer, not turn it into a- a-” 

“- Final boss of a Resident Evil game?”

“Yeah.” They glanced at each other, and below, the monster continued to cry out and gnash its teeth, blindly shifting its body weight to ram into the nearest buildings.

“This is just great,” Peter sighed. 

“Well, its mouth is bigger, right?” Wade tried, “easier target.” 

“You still got the bomb?” Wade patted one of his pouches and nodded. “Alright.” Peter hesitated a moment before gingerly putting his hand around Wade’s waist. “Is this… okay?” he asked. “Just - it’s easier to hold on, I mean.” Peter’s hand was hot against his hip; indecision making his fingers flex along Wade’s suit. 

{We could say no.}

[Do we want to?]

“So long as you can get me close to that gross mouth thing,” Wade managed. Peter nodded, once, and shot a web out to the opposite side of the building. Wade waited for them to go over the edge, but instead, the other man continued to shoot out more lines of webbing, building off the first horizontal strand until there was more support across both buildings, and the entire collection looked more like, well, a web. Only then did he shoot out a strand towards the middle of the bridge he created, and let them swing over to it. 

Their position was now directly over the creature’s mouth. “These will hold, right?” Wade asked, wrapping his own arm around Peter’s side for support.

“Yeah. It’s a stronger formula I perfected. It could hold up an elephant.” 

Wade nodded, still not taking his hand off Peter’s side, or his eyes off the creature looming below. The abominable case of threatening yonic symbolism had lost its legs in the transformation, but it still managed to move by swaying its body. And that jaw could still seize up, snapping at the air. Wade did  _ not  _ want to get caught between those teeth, and he had the sneaking suspicion that a tiny bomb made by Tony Stark wasn’t a run of the mill incendiary, either.

Peter stuck himself to the web he created before attaching a web to Wade’s back. “I’m going to lower you down, okay?” Wade grimaced, but didn’t say anything. His hand was still glued to Peter’s side. “...You’re not afraid of heights, are you?”

“No, but I am afraid of dangling over a giant metaphor for being afraid of vaginas because you never knew your own mother.”

“...Should I go down instead?” 

Wade sighed. Between the two of them, he could probably live through whatever crazy shit would happen once the bomb went off. “No, I’ll go. Just make sure to give us both distance once this goes in - Stark said it wasn’t fully tested.”

“Got it.”

“And don’t drop me.”

“Never.” 

Wade nodded, and let go. He was expecting a jerk of the webbing, but Peter did as he said, lowing him down, swiftly but carefully as he drifted closer to the creature. The web got so long he started to slowly dangle in the wind. “Ugh, this is not something I want to see up close,” he groused, digging into one of his pouches and pulling out the bomb. He stared at it. The orb was black, but in a strange, unfathomable way, like looking into the unknowable depths of the ocean, or of space. “Hope it works.” He waited for the creature’s mouth to open wide, before he lobbed it in, and the bomb disappeared. “Alright.” He tugged on the web. “Pull me up!” 

Before he could get very far, however, the creature seized up again, its mouth snapping viciously at Wade’s heels. Wade pulled his feet up, but the mouth still chased him, teeth gnashing. On instinct he kicked out when the teeth got too close for comfort, and a spike of blistering pain went through him. “Augh! When is that bomb going to fucking work?! Is it on a timer?” As it opened its mouth to bite down yet again, Wade saw a spreading darkness from within, and the base of the monster seemed to be collapsing in on itself. Peter pulled him up, but the monster wasn’t deterred, snapping through the  webbing like it was a few pesky threads. 

The younger man grabbed Wade around the waist again and swung the two of them to the edge of another building, and further away still, the monster’s deafening screams drowning out the noise of Wade’s racing pulse. 

Too far away to catch its prey, the creature continued to thrash around. “What is that explosive doing?” Wade asked, looking over Peter’s shoulder. 

“I think it might be falling into some sort of… black hole? It’s being sucked up into nothing.” It was true - most of the monster’s mass was gone, its mouth opening into a deep void, until even that had vanished, and the eldritch abomination ceased to exist entirely, disappearing from sight.

Wade felt the pair of them relax in unison. He could hear Peter breathe, and open his mouth to say something, only for a renewed force of suction to kick up. “Right, black hole,” Peter said, frantically. He held on tighter to Wade as large piles of debris were sucked into a central point of nothingness. Wade held onto Peter with both arms, and he could feel the pressure grow even stronger, abandoned cars and giant masses of concrete left on the street being dragged forward. 

With a yelp, Peter came unstuck from the building, the web still attached to the roof snapping, too. Wade was left to hold on as Peter scrabbled for purchase, pained grunts and the sound of fingers scraping on nothing, the ground fast approaching below. 

Wade pulled harder where his arms were around Peter’s waist and flipped them as the other man doing anything he could to slow them both down. They hit the jagged pavement, and Wade felt his skull and spine crack painfully on impact.

Peter was over him, sticking to the ground, boxing Wade in to stop him from being sucked into the void. Wind and concrete and metal flew overhead, narrowly  missing the pair of them every time. Wade opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but for a frightening moment, even the air around them was being sucked away.

And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped, all the debris in the air dropping with a crash around them. The lack of a gravitational pull meant Peter suddenly pitched forward, nearly hitting Wade in this nose. They stared at each other.

“I’m glad you didn’t decide to jump into that thing with the bomb on you,” Peter said.

“Me too. Thanks for being a passable spotter, by the way.” 

“I was more than passable - I saved your life.” 

“True, but if my calculations are correct, you definitely -” Wade felt along his leg, “did  _ not  _ save my right leg from the knee down.”

“You were  _ kicking  _ it.”

“What did you expect me to do?”   


“Do you kick sharks attacking you, too?”

“I mean, maybe. Why, do you regularly fight sharks? What’s the Great White population like in Queens?” 

“About thirty-nine percent,” Peter said. 

“That’s not what I meant, and why do you even know that? Why would you  _ need  _ to know that?” Peter just scoffed. “I have the suspicion you’re rolling your eyes at me.” 

“Guess you just know me too well,” Peter shot back. Again, Wade had the uncanny feeling that Peter was smiling at him. He could see it so easily; bright teeth set into a narrow face that was flushed from swinging through the air. He coughed.

“Thanks for not dropping me, though.”

“I’d never drop you.” 

“I don’t think you can promise that.” 

“I just did, didn’t I? I’m trying to stick to my word better than… before.” Wade bit the inside of his cheek, and after another prolonged moment of staring, Peter looked up. “Should we join the party?” He stood up, standing at Wade’s side instead of laying on top of him. 

“Sure.” Wade stretched, his back cracking audibly. The back of his head was still sore, but he was pretty sure everything was healed - aside from his missing leg. 

Peter held out his hand to help Wade up. He took it, leaning against the younger man’s side as they slowly worked their way towards where the Avengers had gathered.

“Well, that was something,” Dr. Banner had re-emerged, and other than being covered in dust and missing all of his clothes aside from a torn pair of shorts he had to hold up, he looked fine. Widow nodded at him - or Spider-man, or both of them - and Hawkeye twitched his mouth to adopt a possibly friendly attempt at a smile.

“Nice save,” Barton said to Spider-man. He nodded to Wade’s missing limb. “Even if you missed a spot.” 

“Hey, I’m ninety percent here,” Wade said, “the rest of my leg is probably, I don’t know, Detroit? Space? A garbage dump in China?” He turned towards Stark. He had flipped his face plate up. His lip was busted, and he had some dark bruising around his cheek. 

“It’s a contained explosion that allows for a small rip between this chunk of the universe and another area that happens to be somewhat close to a supermassive black hole. The radius was only supposed to get rid of that thing, but it went a bit further than that. The important part is that it’s now somewhere far, far away, where it can float around aimlessly and think about what it’s done.”

“More like go through the terrifying process of spaghettification,” Dr. Banner supplied. “You should probably test that further before using it again.”  

“And warn everyone involved about  _ what  _ that thing does, maybe?” Peter added. Wade silently agreed. He had a sick feeling he could probably survive in the cold vacuum of space, running out of oxygen, asphyxiating, reviving again… until he also got torn apart on a cellular level once he hit the black hole’s event horizon. He shuttered. 

“I would have liked a heads up on that also,” Cap said, raising his hand slightly. 

“I told Banner,” Stark defended. 

“I don’t think the Hulk would’ve been able to run all of that by us in the heat of battle,” Widow said.

“The point is,” Stark pressed, “the thing’s gone. Harvester is still in prison, and that gun is still with us. Mission accomplished. And it also helped with some of the clean up.” He gestured to the cracked road around them that was mostly free of debris.

Rogers jutted his thumb over his shoulder. “Then if we’re done here, I’m going to talk to some of the officers, tell them the threat’s gone.” He started moving, briefly stopping next to Wade and Peter. “Thanks again for your help - both of you.” He flashed them both a friendly smile and started moving again, down the street where a crowd of police cars had started to accumulate. 

“We have a debriefing to do,” Widow said, throwing her arm over Barton’s shoulder, steering them away, “if anyone needs a ride…” She glanced pointedly at the Stark.

“Yeah, sure. I know Pepper’s going to make me talk to the governor about another hefty donation to the city’s road infrastructure.” He grimaced as he spoke, “just give me a minute and I’ll catch up.”

“Sure,” Widow said, she and Barton starting to walk off.

“Banner, you coming?” Barton asked. 

“Uh, I’m gonna,” Banner gestured to the two agents, “So. Bye.” He walked off, his gait surprisingly smooth for someone walking over cracked concrete and broken bits of construction without shoes. 

Wade shifted his stance slightly, looking down at his leg. Peter shifted with him as he moved. The limb had stopped bleeding a while ago, and there was already decent progress in the regrowing department, the skin of what would soon be a new foot coming in fresh and pink and unscarred. Stark stared at them both.

“So, did you need a ride or were you just going to take the Spider-man express?” 

“As fun as a sleepover at Avenger’s Tower sounds,” he started, “I have somewhere to be.” Well. Not really. But he didn’t just want to leave Cable while the guy was still skulking around on a rooftop somewhere. 

“Leaving again?” Stark asked. 

Wade tilted his head. “Again?” 

“You never answered when I contacted you. Figured you were…” He gestured. “Off doing something.”

“Just out of town. Helping some mutants, maybe traveled into the future slightly. You know how it is.”  

“Was that why you weren’t around?” Peter asked abruptly.

“For the most part,” Wade said. Stark hummed. 

“Right, well, I hate small talk, so I’ll make this quick. Great work team, blah blah blah - Wilson, answer your phone next time you aren’t pulling some Interstellar nonsense, got it?”

“Uh, right, yeah. No problem.” 

“Good. Now I need to see some SHIELD agents about a ride.” With that, he too started to pick his way through the battle’s debris. It was strange to see Stark suited up and  _ walking,  _ and he and Spider-man silently watched until the red and gold armor disappeared down the street. 

“How’s your leg?” Peter asked.

Wade flexed it. “It’s getting there. If you need to go somewhere, that’s fine.” 

“I can take you up there until you heal.” Peter pointed up. “If you want, I mean. The cops are starting to come over and it’s kind of my fault that you - uh. Yeah.” 

“Hey, I kicked it didn’t I?” Wade could hear a collection of voices getting closer as the police were allowed into the area. He sighed. “Fine. Take me up.” Peter put his arm around Wade and hauled him up onto the roof of a building that was mostly intact. Wade sat on the edge of the roof, gloved fingers pressing into the sensitive patches of fresh skin to test it. 

It was quiet, now. All the civilians had been cleared out before Wade even arrived on the scene, and the police would be establishing a perimeter. There was no one else around, except for - well. Him. Wade took his hand away from his leg and rested it on his lap, knowing his mind ought to be racing in a panic, but unable to come up with anything at all.

“Hey,” Peter spoke up, “that menacing figure that just jumped from that rooftop to ours is your friend right? And not a murderous assailant?” Wade looked back up.

“We’re not friends,” Cable said immediately.

“No, we definitely are, he’s just very touchy about it,” Wade said. 

Cable grunted. “I need to get going. I don’t have much of this lunarium left to work with.”

“Lunarium?” Peter asked. 

“I had a little side quest,” Wade said, “don’t worry about it.” He looked over at Cable. “So this is it - till next time you come barging in and need me to tag along on some super friends outing with you?”

“Sure,” Cable said, in the way that someone agreed to something and had very little intention of acting on it. Ever the diplomat. 

“Oh, uh,” Peter interrupted, “thanks for that save back there, by the way.” He stuck his hand out, but Cable didn’t shake it. He rubbed the back of his neck instead. 

{Peter is getting curved too many times today.}

[Yeah, but it's funny.]

Cable stared at Peter, an unreadable expression on his face. He glanced at Wade for a split second.  “Spider-man, huh? Interesting.” There was a hint of amusement to his tone now. He was still looking at Peter, but Wade suddenly had the feeling Cable was making that remark to  _ him.  _

[He’s from the future. He must know something we don’t know.]

{What, do we become sworn enemies or something?}

[Does Spider-man turn evil?]

{Plot twist!}

“Uh, yep. That’s me. Friendly neighborhood Spider-man at your service, uh?”

“Cable,” he said. “I’m sure I’ll run into you again.” He held Wade’s gaze. “Until then.” He walked further along the roof, using his metal arm to break off the padlock of the service entrance, and disappeared into the building. 

[Oh, he could do that  _ now. _ ]

Peter watched Cable leave, before slowly turning back to Wade. “Nice friend. You didn’t, uh, tell him about me, did you?”

“He’s from the future,” Wade said with a hand wave. “Must’ve known about you from his time.” 

{Before everyone apparently died, of course.}

[Yeah, how  _ did  _ that happen? Cable never really said much about that.]

{Definitely climate change.}

Peter whipped his head over his shoulder again. “Doesn’t you… telling me that potentially mess up the timeline, or something?” 

“Who knows. He told me, and he didn’t suddenly cease to exist. Though I don’t think time travel works like that for him anyway..." He frowned thoughtfully.

"So how  _ does  _ it work for him?”

Wade shrugged a shoulder and glanced down at his foot again. The skin was pink and raw, but his foot and calf were nearly formed again. He'd be walking soon . “He has a device to ‘slide through time’, whatever that means. We were looking for some alternative energy sources he could use to power it, but things got, uh, weird. He transported us here and also sent us into the future.”

“...How far in the future?”

“A month.” 

Peter nodded, and slowly walked towards Wade, sitting down next to him.

“A month.”

“More or less.” Wade took out his phone. “I have way more missed calls then I thought. And texts. And e-mails.” Peter tensed beside him.

“Yeah, about that…” 

Wade hopped to his feet, wincing as his naked foot met the ground. It felt a little weak, and the skin burned under the rough material of the rooftop, but he just dusted off his suit and bounced in place. “Alright, well, it’s been fun, but I’m gonna beat it. Places to go, people to see, all that.” He made a single step forward, then another.

“Wade, wait.” 

He could keep walking. He could just… not look back, put one foot in front of another, and then he could go somewhere else - somewhere that wasn’t  _ here,  _ where he wouldn’t have to stare at Peter and talk to Peter and get reminded of Peter - well, too late for that. 

“Wade, I owe you an explanation,” Peter tried again, talking at Wade’s back.

“No!” Wade coughed, shook his head. “No, you don’t. It’s fine, Webs. I’m just gonna - head back.” 

“What I did wasn’t - it wasn’t right. I know you’re mad. You have every right to feel that way. I just - you’ve been MIA for a month, Wade. I couldn’t find you anywhere, no other hero in town heard from you, I thought something awful happened.”

“Hey, it didn’t, just a quick flash back to the future. And even if it did, I’d get over it. I mean, I’m here, aren’t I?” He waved his hand. “It’s  _ fine,  _ really. I mean," he swallowed, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was trying to crawl up his throat and escape, “your identity is important, can’t trust anyone, people you get close to die, et cetera et cetera. Typical hero stuff.” His shoulders slumped. “And I know we just don’t see heroism the same way and probably never will, people have a right to doubt if I’m going to stay  _ good  _ or if I’m going to fuck it up - which I probably will, knowing me. And it will definitely be catastrophic when that happens, so if you didn’t want to put your life and safety into the hands of a possible-future-anti-villain then you know, I get it.”

“Wade -”

“And I mean, spying on me while I was spying on you was a dick move but it’s also something I would have definitely done in your position, so, I don’t know what that means to  _ you,  _ but I guess that’s something I can move past. And yeah, the whole fake dating thing - it’s funny how that trope gets used all the time and it always seems to end well in every _other_ scenario, but who doesn’t like a good deconstruction of story lines once in a while?” He put wrung his hands together as he babbled. 

“No, listen, Wade I just -”

“So I guess if we ever wanted to meet up in the future it’d definitely be a Batman-Catwoman type situation where you’d let me get close to an extent and we could shack up on a rooftop once in a while but our own senses of justice means we could never give any meaningful relationship a serious try and -”

“Wade, I’m sorry.” Wade’s ears twitched, picking up on a particular sound. Peter’s voice was different this time. Not as deep as it had just been. Somehow, he sounded more like  _ Peter.  _ He turned around to see the man holding the mask in his hands. Wade’s eyes widened at this last trick; why he never matched Peter’s voice to Spider-man’s. 

The hero had once mentioned, in passing, that he had a police scanner in his mask so he could hear about any crimes going on in the city. A small voice modulator wasn’t out of the question, either, he realized.

He also realized this was the first time he was hearing Peter’s voice - his real voice - today. No other hero that he knew of, except for Stark, inadvertently, had heard this voice. He fought against how his chest tightened at the sight and sound of Peter; he didn’t want to do this, his muscles ached and his foot was still raw, but he just wanted to run away.

He didn’t move.

“I’m sorry,” Peter said again, tugging and stretching the mask in his hands. “I’m really, really sorry. I -” He sighed, mouth tugging down. “I jump the gun. A lot. I make a split second decision and go along with it for way longer than its viable and I get into a lot of trouble because of that, as Spider-man sometimes but almost always as… me. 

"At first… I mean, it was hard to get a read on you - on Deadpool. Good motives sometimes, other times… not so much. So I didn’t know if I could trust you,” Peter’s voice grew quieter, trailing off like he didn’t want to say that last part out loud.

“That’s an antihero thing, I guess,” Wade defended weakly. “So when I told you what Stark wanted me to do, you just wanted information - to see if I was really on the up and up?” Peter swallowed, looking pained, and nodded. Again Wade was pushing against himself, trying not to feel anything, trying to make himself believe that it didn’t matter, anyway, what Peter thought of him.

“That’s what I did at first. And I tried to get your attention by flirting with you, but then things started to change. Well,  _ you  _ didn’t change. I did. I realized things about you that I never did before.”

“My amazing sense of humor?”

The edge of Peter's mouth twitched. “You always had a great sense of humor.” He frowned again. “I never hated you Wade,” he started, “but when I actually got to  _ know  _ you, I found someone who who I shared so much common ground with. And you’re a better person than you let anyone believe. And I could probably stand here for the rest of the day telling you why I went from barely trusting you to wanting to be with you - but the point is,” Peter’s eyes flashed, and his jaw worked, “by the time you showed me your real face and I kissed you, that’s all I wanted to do.” 

Peter held his gaze. He had stopped fiddling with his mask. All was still.

Wade moved. 

Just those two steps back, until he was in front of Peter.

“If all that is true,” Wade started, “why did you lie?”

“Only two people in the world know who I really am,” Peter said. “Well, three now. I did think about telling you, when you snuck into my room, but I once you left I just kept thinking of all these worst case scenarios and I froze up. I  _ do  _ trust you, Wade, and I’ve always believed in giving people second chances. It’s just, people who know who I am always get hurt. Every time.” 

“Well, that usually doesn’t stop me for long,” Wade said, shaking his now healed leg for emphasis. Peter smiled again. 

“You can still feel angry and betrayed and - whatever else. But please,” Peter reached out, and gingerly took Wade’s hand, “don’t just run away. Keep your distance if you have to, but when you just  _ left  _ without a trace I - I was scared I wasn’t going to see you ever again. That I ruined a lot of things for you, not just us.” 

Wade swallowed, but there was that feeling of something moving and forming a lump in his throat. “I can’t promise I won’t have to go somewhere on a mission somewhere else,” he managed, “but if I leave, it will be because I have somewhere to be, I’m not just trying to get away.”  Peter smiled again, dark eyes brightening in a way that drew attention to how pale and thin his face looked - more than Wade remembered. 

The younger man  held Wade’s hand even tighter before letting go, and held his hand out to Wade.

“Wanna start over?” Peter asked. Wade thought about it for a moment, and shook his head. Peter’s hopeful expression dropped along with his hand. 

Wade stepped even closer, and pulled Peter into a hug. “Starting over means forgetting everything,” he said, as Peter’s arms went around his middle and held him tightly. “We can’t just ignore everything that happened, you know?” 

“But we can move forward together, right?” Peter said, mouth pressed against Wade’s ear. 

“Exactly.” He stepped back. Peter was smiling - no, actually grinning, this time, even as he tried to nonchalantly rub at his eye with the heel of his hand. He let out a nervous laugh, and Wade smiled back. He wanted to move closer again, cradle Peter’s face in his hands, kiss him until everything else fell away. But he couldn’t. Not yet. 

“Hey, none of that,” Wade said gently, even as his voice came out rather strangled, “this is good, right?”

“Better than I thought it would turn out,” Peter said with a laugh. “I really did think you were going to run away.”

“Me? No, that’s the old Wade Wilson.” He threw his arm over Peter’s shoulder and walked him towards the service entrance. “Mind if we take the stairs? My leg needs to readjust.” 

“Sure - and then food, right? I’m starving.”

“You’re always starving,” Wade teased.

“Well, so are you, so are you coming or not?”

Peter had his reasons, and Wade could understand them and forgive him for that, but there was still a whisper of doubt in the back of his mind - the anxiety that this was an even longer con waiting to happen. It probably wouldn’t come to pass, but he needed to know, needed an absolute certainty that he could trust Peter with everything he had. And once that happened he could lean in and finally close that gap. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Peter grinned at him, before pulling his mask back on and hopping onto the banister.  “Great! Race you down!” 

Wade called after him, but Peter was already leaping down towards the bottom of the stairs, laughter floating up as he went.  “You’re still paying!” he shouted as he began his descent, his leg fully healed and taking him down easily, one foot in front of the other, relentless and quick on the metal steps below, pushing ahead.

The two of them weren’t there yet, but Wade had a feeling they’d make it. 

One day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! You guys! We made it! I had a little tearing up moment filling out the AO3 post, not gonna lie. 
> 
> I hope the ending is satisfying - my initial plans for this story had a more conventionally romantic ending, but with the pacing and the characters, I thought something more open, but hopeful, felt right. And hey - there are plans for a sequel! They'll definitely have that Big Damn Kiss in the sequel. 
> 
> I hope my first ever spideypool fic went over well, and if you want to talk to me (or even suggest prompts for future spideypool fics) you can follow me on twitter and tumblr - my username for both is schmuzz1
> 
> Finally, thank you so much to everyone who commented! I love comments more than anything else, they were probably the main reason why I got a weekly update schedule and, for the most part, stuck to it. They really kept me motivated, and I feel so happy that so many people enjoyed reading this story. So - until next time!! :)


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